


Poison Us

by Noxbait



Category: Cal Leandros - Rob Thurman
Genre: Brothers, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noxbait/pseuds/Noxbait
Summary: A routine case leaves both Niko and Cal worse for wear, but they tell themselves they'll be fine in the morning. When have things ever gone that well for the Leandros brothers, though? Things get a lot worse before they get better. Chapter 1 of 6. Story is complete.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning! I've had this story in the works since July 2019. It's finally polished up and ready to go! A little longer than my other Leandros fics thus far, it is 6 chapters and is complete.
> 
> Set just a little later than my other stories, this one is still fairly early in the series, but after they've been friends with Robin and Promise for awhile. Hope you enjoy!

**POISON US**

**_Cal_ **

"An _infestation?_ " I asked, wrinkling my nose in distaste. "What are we now, exterminators?"

"How would that be any different, really, than what we do?" Niko countered in that _I'm smarter than you are and I know it_ way of his. "We already exterminate monsters and killers."

"So we're going to add roaches and rats to our business cards?"

This time it was _his_ nose that was wrinkling in distaste. Actually, flat out disgust. Nik hated rats and cockroaches. Hated them. Hated them like I hated homework and housework and anything much that wasn't sleeping or eating or killing.

"I think not," Nik said, shaking his head.

He didn't shudder and he'd never admit it, but I'd be willing to bet his skin was crawling. Mine was too and I didn't even hate rats and cockroaches. Well, not as much as he did anyway.

I tried to hide my full body shudder by adjusting my coat.

"Remember, this is not a typical infestation."

"There's a _typical_ infestation?" Rolling my eyes, I said, "Never mind, I don't want to know. Just tell me what we're exterminating so we can get this over with."

Nik raised an eyebrow as he parked the car along a tree lined street. "It's seven in the evening. Do you have somewhere else you need to be, little brother?"

"No." I checked over my guns.

"So this is just your baseline impatience, then?"

"I have a baseline?" I grinned, shoving the creaking door open.

Over the top of the car, he said, "There is an entire algorithm to your levels of impatience."

"There is?"

"Yes. I've had ample time to study you over the years."

There was no denying it. He knew me better than I knew myself.

He started walking up the driveway and said, "The owner of the estate said that the infestation began about three months ago and has only been growing worse since then. They've never even caught a glimpse of whatever creature is making its home in their walls. Whatever it is, it's fast and small."

"But they're sure it's not a rat? I mean, this is New York."

"They're fairly confident it's not a rat since they've found no less than ten rats skinned and gutted in the basement. They've also found a couple cats, some squirrels and several small dogs in the same condition."

"I thought you said it was _small."_ I tightened my hand around the comforting weight of my gun. "If it's skinning dogs, it can't be that small."

"As I said, they've never seen it but it is able to move through the walls which means it can't be very large."

"But it's not a rat." I stared up at the foreboding old house with a bit more distaste.

"Probably not a rat," Nik acknowledged. "They have found trails throughout the house."

"Trails?" I followed him up the steps.

"Bright purple...goo, for lack of a better word."

My eyes widened as I stared at him. Nik always had a better word. He

never lacked for words at all, in fact. As he unlocked the front door, I said, "Goo. Like slime?"

He nodded, pushing the door open. "Like slime, but more goo-like."

I snorted. For his extensive vocabulary to be failing him so magnificently that he was saying things like _goo-like_ was concerning. What we found when we entered the foyer was beyond concerning.

It was gut-churning.

My guts did a lot of churning and I was swallowing hard against the urge to vomit my own goo-like substance right onto the no doubt expensive carpet.

Hand over my nose and mouth, I mumbled, "That is disgusting."

Disgusting was an understatement and from Nik's disturbed and slightly greenish tinged expression, he agreed.

Just as he'd said, there were trails criss crossing over the floor, in and out of the other rooms and up and down the stairs and, more disturbingly, the walls and ceiling. Purple goo was lethargically dripping from the ceiling in long, thick strands. It was definitely more like goo then slime. Thick and congealed, it was like clumps of pudding or snot.

The worst of it though? The smell. I've smelled a lot of putrid odors in my lifetime, but this might just be taking the cake. I couldn't have described it if I'd tried.

Less than a minute through the door and five feet into the house, I gagged and added my dinner to the Pollock-styled splatters on the floor.

One hand braced on the wall, I still gripped my gun in the other as I tried to regain control. I had my eyes squeezed shut so at least I could block the sight of the noxious horror around me.

"Cal?" Nik was at my side, one hand on my shoulder.

I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and said, "I'm fine."

And then I threw up my afternoon snack and probably my lunch, too.

"Perhaps you should wait outside," Nik said, glancing around the room.

"You don't smell it?" I panted, cold sweat dripping down the back of my neck.

"Of course I smell it, but it is not affecting me to the same degree."

_Damn monster DNA,_ I cursed in my head as I spit out a string of bile and barely avoided losing my breakfast.

"I'm fine." Wiping my hand over my mouth, I added, "I'm adjusting. I'm not leaving you in here alone."

Nik studied me and he wasn't impressed with what he saw, but I was his back-up and he wasn't hunting some dog eating, purple goo pooping, smelly snail or whatever it was without me.

"I'm fine," I said for a third time. Third time's the charm, right? I straightened, my stomach rolling disturbingly as I tried to breathe through my mouth. "Just fine."

"Mmm hmm." Nik released my shoulder and surveyed the room again. "I believe we should begin in the basement as that's where they've found the dead animals."

"Nowhere I'd rather be." I gagged a few more times as Nik walked around the room, peering into different rooms. Steeling myself, I followed him toward the back of the house. "Why don't we just blow the house up?"

"Because we were not paid to blow up the house." Nik pushed the door open, cautious as always. "Our clients do wish to live in this estate again."

I fought down the urge to vomit again at the mere thought of living in the house. Spending even one minute longer then I had to in slime central was terrifying. I didn't care if there was some historical or sentimental significance to the moldy old house. Blowing the place to smithereens sounded like the best solution to me, but I was seldom consulted on such matters.

Nik continued down the stairs, his sword drawn, but it seemed simply a precaution. His shoulders were relaxed and his steps a graceful dance as bypassed the neon gunk splattered on the stairs. I rushed down the stairs and made it without losing whatever was left of my stomach contents. Even when I stepped in a gooey puddle of yuck, I maintained control.

And then a string of goop dripped from the ceiling and slapped me in the face with an audible _plop._

Breakfast and _yesterday's_ dinner made its reappearance in a magnificent splatter.

"Cal, seriously," Nik said, supportive, yet standing at a safe distance. "You should go wait outside."

"I'm not leaving you to defeat the goo monster alone."

"Do you intend to kill it with your vomitus then?" Nik wasn't even attempting to disguise his amusement.

"I hate you," I muttered in between spitting and coughing and wishing I could breathe without turning my stomach inside out. The noxious odor was at least ten times worse down here. "Can we hurry this up so we can get out of here?"

"Can you stop tossing your cookies long enough to shoot?"

"I can shoot and," I gagged harshly, then continued, "toss cookies."

Nik actually laughed.

And then a skittering noise to our left had us both straightening, weapons at the ready.

"What the-" I broke off at the sight of...well, I didn't know _what_ the sight was, but the word disgusting didn't even begin to describe the gore edging along the far wall.

"Interesting," Nik said softly.

It wasn't interesting. It was revolting. Bad as it smelled, it was even more horrible to look at. The size of a legless cow, it was splayed half on the far wall and half on the ceiling. An amoeba of blue and red jello, it slithered back and forth in rapid, fluid movements. Maybe it was nervous. I was nervous. Nervous about what a freaked out sludge of goo might do to us. Purple _bleh_ was running down the wall underneath it. Maybe I hadn't been wrong about the goo being poop.

_Ugh, it had dripped on my face._ I banished the thought. Couldn't think about that now. Had to concentrate on the...the _whatever the hell it was._

"I thought you said it was _small._ What the hell is it?" I whispered, afraid to take any chances on what could potentially startle a jello cow that gutted small animals.

"I don't know." Nik didn't sound upset, he sounded awed.

I was a little awed that he didn't know something, but more upset at what might happen to us because he didn't know.

The thing didn't have a face. It didn't have arms or legs, just slimy, nebulous appendages that grew and shrunk and formed and unformed in random movements. I could have handled the poop goo situation and overall ugliness of the creature if it hadn't been for what it was wearing.

It didn't have a face or arms or legs but somehow had managed to create a gruesome sort of outfit. It was clad in the skins of the poor unlamented rats and strays it had killed. Did goo get cold at night? I tamped down on a shudder.

"Can I shoot it?" I whispered, finger itching to pull the trigger and see what my Desert Eagle would do to the pile of gore. I had left my explosive rounds at home because Nik told me to and I fully intended to give him shit about it later. An explosion seemed like a wonderful idea right now.

"I would not recommend it."

Nik held his sword at the ready, but made no threatening moves. Fascinated, he studied the creature like he was some kind of explorer discovering a brand new species. I could envision him in the dark reaches of a jungle somewhere, studying, cataloging, and naming new creatures. He'd love that. He'd be _great_ at it. He might be doing it or something equally extraordinary if it wasn't for me. Instead, here we were, surrounded by goo and trying to sort out a goo-extermination plan on the fly.

"Ok, no shooting." I tried not to make it obvious that I was inching backwards. "What do you suggest?"

"I believe we need to do a bit more research."

"Seriously!" I kept my voice low. Barely. Gaze still on the blob, I asked, "So we're just turning around and leaving?"

I _really_ hoped he was going to say yes.

"That is exactly what we're doing." Nik reached without even looking and patted my chest. "Upstairs. Slowly."

I edged up the stairs backwards, watching as the creature fluttered and pulsed. Angry? Nervous? Hungry? Who knew. I hoped the thing wasn't hungry. I shouldn't have, but I did think about it wearing me as next season's finest fashion and if I hadn't already thrown everything up, I would have done it right then and there.

Gun still at the ready and one hand on the railing, I carefully moved up the stairs. Nik was following me and I allowed myself a breath of relief when the blob's nervous slithering stilled and it made no move to follow us.

And then it was in the middle of the room, standing at least six feet tall and in the rough shape of a man. Still blue and red, still leaking purple goo, still clad in its finest skins, still without a face. Still smelly and disgusting, but now apparently solid and gloriously shootable.

"Nik?" I drew his name out into a sentence.

"Keep moving," he instructed, his hand tightening around the sword he held at the ready.

I kept moving and so did the creature. We all three made our way slowly up the stairs and back down the hallway. Nik and I went backwards, trying to dodge piles of slop as we walked. The creature stalked us with sinuous movements of its leg-like extensions. It didn't seem nervous now.

It seemed bold.

I didn't like bold.

"I really feel like we should give shooting a try," I said, struggling not to bend over retching as a fresh blast of stench hit me hard.

"And if shooting merely makes it angry?" he murmured, making a little hand movement that told me to hurry the hell up.

"Then you can chop it into tiny bits."

He didn't get a chance to reply because the thing moved fast as a bolt of lightning and bowled us both over. Knocked onto my back, the breath exploded out of me and, before I could draw in a replacement, my face was covered with cold, slimy, smelly goo.

Nik had spent so much of his time teaching me how to control my panic. How to master my fears. How to remain calm in any situation. How to think clearly under pressure. How to react rationally and intelligently.

I started shooting.

Calm, rational, and in control I was not.

Having my ability to breathe taken away tended to do that to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut because the last thing I wanted was goo in my eyes. It was already in my nose and mouth and that was a very serious problem because I was going to choke on my own vomit in the next thirty seconds if something didn't change.

Nik was moving next to me; fighting for all he was worth. I kept shooting and kicking and if I'd had breath, I probably would have been screaming like a scared three year old.

I emptied my clip into the thing and started swinging. I had to get free if I was going to reload. But the goop was all over me, pressing down, wet and ridiculously heavy considering it was goo. Drowning face first in a bowl of jello would have at least smelled better.

The whole oxygen deprivation thing was becoming a serious issue. I twisted to the right, desperate and panicking and forgetting everything I'd ever been taught about zen and mindfulness and control. The wall turned out a helluva lot closer than I'd expected and I introduced my face to it with an enthusiastic degree of force. I gasped in shock and was even more shocked when I drew in oxygen. Noxiously-scented oxygen, but oxygen nonetheless.

Coughing and gagging and all but crying with joy, I pushed myself upright and looked for my brother. Eyes burning and streaming as I sucked in a breath, I saw Nik next to me, running a hand over his face. He shook his wrist and goo went flying.

"Cal?" he asked, coughing and spitting.

I gave him a thumbs up then hurled all over my lap. It was already soaked with purple ick, but that didn't really make me feel any better.

"It's...dead." Nik stood up, the show off. He reached down to pull me out of the mess I was sitting in. "I believe you killed it."

"I did?" I coughed a few more times, wiping my hand over my face and trying to see past the filmy goop. I was steady on my feet, but my stomach was still turning somersaults. The floor in front of me was a puddle of purple and I took a step back. "Can we go now?"

"Yes." Nik pushed me toward the door. "I'm going to take a look around. Ensure this was the only one."

"No, no you're not." I latched onto his sleeve and yanked him along with me. "We did what we came here to do. It's been exterminated. We're not on the clean up crew. We don't get paid for that kind of shit. If there's a second one, we'll come back with raincoats and gas masks."

Nik followed me out the door and I finally breathed in air that wasn't polluted with goo-monster odor. It was a glorious thing and almost made me forget that I was soaked in monster excrement.

"It exploded," Nik said, mulling the situation over.

"I didn't bring my explosive rounds," I insisted, not ready to take the blame for our shower of monster.

"Explosive rounds or not, you must have hit it somewhere important." He shook out his coat and purple flew everywhere. "It seemed impervious to my blade. We'll have to do some research."

"We killed it." I groaned. "What more do we need to know?"

Nik opened the trunk of the car then started digging around for the tarp. He said, "We need to know what it was and where its vulnerability is located so that next time we run into one, we will be able to kill it with more precision and less...goo."

I snorted and peeled off my coat as Nik was doing. We turned them inside out and carefully double garbage-bagged them in the trunk. A few minutes later, tarp protectively covering moth eaten, ripped and ugly seats, we were on our way home.

"I killed it. I get first shower."

Nik gave me a sideways glance and nodded. "When you are finished, you can start with the laundry."

"Ugh." I slumped deeper into the seat. "I'll take second shower instead."

"Very well. Once you are finished, you can start with the laundry."

"Is there a scenario where I _don't_ have to do the laundry?"

"There is not." Nik smiled despite still being liberally coated in purple.

"I bet I could come up with one."

"I'm sure you could."

In the end, I wound up taking first shower _and_ being excused from laundry duty. The fact that he had to pull the car over three times for me to puke on the way home probably had something to do with Nik's change of heart.

* * *

**_Niko_ **

He groaned. For the eighth time. I was counting.

"I'm gonna die."

"You're not going to die," I said, sympathetic yet firm.

Cal had his head down on his arms where he slouched at the table. We'd both showered and I'd bagged up our soiled clothes and done a thorough job of cleaning our weapons while he did a thorough job of emptying his stomach. I didn't know where he was finding stuff to still throw up; even with his eating habits, he had to be running on empty by now.

I checked my watch. It had been nearly half an hour since his last bout of vomiting, so maybe we were finally in the clear. The smell had been overwhelming to me and I could only imagine what it was like for Cal. The mint tea in front of him had been an attempt to cover the scent of the Goo monster, but he could still smell the creature despite my best efforts.

"Why don't you just go lie down?" I asked, for at least the eighth time.

"Because it's easier to puke from here." He had a trash can at his feet.

"I think you're done."

"There's at least one other organ I can still eject."

Wiping down the kitchen counter, I said, "Perhaps you should try those pills Promise brought over a few weeks ago."

"Don't talk about pills or food or-" He broke off, gagging weakly.

"Sorry."

I rested my hand on the back of his head. His hair was damp with sweat. I should have made him wait in the car. Regretting allowing him into the house, I moved to the sink and soaked a fresh dishcloth in cool water. I settled it over his neck and smiled a little at his mumbled thanks.

Leaving him be, I turned off the kitchen light then walked into the living room. I had considered paying Promise a visit for the evening, but after our slightly more gruesome than expected job, I didn't think she would appreciate spending time with me. Despite a long shower, several rounds of soaping and scrubbing, and lacking supercharged olfactory capabilities, even I could still smell the creature's stench on me.

I started working through my katas as I pondered the events of the evening. We'd gone into the job with far less information than usual. It was intended to be a fact gathering expedition. I always try to expect the unexpected but some things simply proved impossible to anticipate.

A formless glob of indeterminate nature that apparently had a preference for clothing itself in animal skins was something I'd never anticipated. I needed to give Robin a call to see if he'd ever heard of this kind of creature. The clients had told me what little they knew about the infestation and I'd run the information by Robin before we'd gone to the estate. With the minimal facts, he hadn't been able to offer much guidance, but perhaps now he would be able to provide additional information.

I was hopeful the creature didn't have a mate or any progeny still lurking in the house. Facing another mysterious slime creature without any additional information was an unpleasant thought. Not that I was thrilled with the thought of facing one _with_ additional information, either.

Finishing up my evening exercises, I remained seated on the floor for several minutes, eyes closed and allowing my mind and body to relax. Despite the stretches, my muscles were surprisingly sore. Our confrontation with the creature had not been the most strenuous of our career and seemed unlikely to have resulted in muscle aches. I would have pondered further but it was getting late and I wanted to discuss the situation with Robin while the details were still fresh in my mind.

I rose and glanced at the kitchen. Cal was where I'd left him, slumped against the table. His shoulders moved with his deep, easy breaths. Asleep. I quietly walked toward my room. If he was resting, I would not disturb him. He'd undoubtedly find his way to his bed in an hour or so.

The distance between the kitchen and my bedroom was not far, but by the time I reached my door, I was strangely tired. There was no logical reason to be so tired, but learning to listen to my body's needs had kept me healthy and alive this long and I was loathe to argue with what worked. So I decided my call to Robin could wait until morning. Conversations with him did not tend to be brief.

It was still rather early to consider going to bed although the thought appealed. For a moment, I stood in front of my bed and considered the merits of at least lying down to rest for a few moments. I was a heartbeat away from giving in to the temptation.

A trash can being knocked over followed by a heavy thud that could be nothing other than my little brother hitting the floor drew my attention from my bed. I took a step back into the hall and had to grab the doorframe when the room tilted alarmingly. Blinking hard, I kept my hand braced on the door as I called out.

"Cal?"

If I'd had any doubts whether or not he'd just fallen out of his chair, which I didn't, they would have vanished instantly at the sound of his sleepy but enthusiastic cursing. Smiling a little despite my inexplicable weariness, I slowly made my way back to the main room. If he was awake, I needed to get some fluids into him before he went to bed.

I had to keep reaching out to touch the wall as I walked because the floor kept shifting and my legs were weak and unsteady. The probability that I was coming down with the flu seemed to be going up exponentially. It was not a pleasant thought.

"Cal?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen.

He looked up at me from the floor. Trash can tipped on its side next to him, he was leaning against the table leg. His skin was almost grey and my worry went up another notch. Although he wasn't scrambling for the trash can, he still looked queasy and unwell.

"Did I wake you up?" he asked, voice hoarse.

"You did not. What happened?"

"Tried to roll over."

There was no amusement in his tone and I did my best not to smile. The way I was feeling, it was not difficult. "Are you injured?"

"Well, my butt hurts." He swallowed hard, not moving an inch. "I'm fine. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"You don't look right." Cal frowned, looking more focused than queasy . "You're pale. Did you get hurt?"

I shook my head and tried to make my grab for the back of a chair look casual. Like I didn't need it to hold me up. From the way his eyes widened, I hadn't quite pulled it off.

"Nik, what's wrong?" Cal pushed himself to his feet and he was ten times steadier than I was. Ghostly pale but analyzing me with all of his attention. If he was this alarmed, I must look terrible.

We didn't lie to each other. We just didn't do that. I was tempted to at least downplay my discomfort, but already it seemed futile. I needed to sit down and did. At least I managed to sit on the chair and not fall flat on the floor.

"I might be coming down with the flu," I admitted reluctantly.

It had only taken me looking slightly unsteady to put that anxious expression on his face. Admitting I might have the flu would have sent him straight into a full blown panic attack a few years ago. We were far enough removed from those nightmarish first years after Tumulus that I thought he would be able to handle this, but it didn't mean it wasn't going to be a challenge if I truly was getting sick.

"The flu?" Cal sounded staggered. Like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

I appreciated his confidence in my abilities to withstand common illnesses, but I was afraid I was going to disappoint him greatly. Already, a fever seemed to be simmering in addition to the muscle aches and weariness. Things were unlikely to get better before they got worse.

"Possibly," I answered. "I simply feel a little under the weather."

Cal frowned. "You never get sick. Like _never._ "

It was true. Neither of us tended to get sick.

"What...uh...what do...what should we do?" he asked, staring at me.

He wasn't freaking out. Not yet. But he was looking to me for answers and I needed to give him some.

"There's nothing we need to do," I answered less confident than usual. "It's merely a minor illness. It will pass."

"Well, do you need, I don't know, soup or something?"

He was so sincere and, despite feeling unwell, I had to fight hard not to laugh. Really hard. I settled for a smile. "Soup?"

Somewhat abashed, he shrugged. "Or something?"

"Right now I would settle for a cup of tea."

"I can do that."

I must look like death warmed over if he was this eager to make me a cup of tea. It was good, though, because I didn't feel like moving.

"Get some water for yourself," I instructed, shifting slightly. Maybe I just needed a hot shower to relax my muscles. Cal had already taken two showers, why couldn't I?

"I'm not ready to tempt fate." Cal shoved the table closer to me and set a mug in front of me.

"You're dehydrated."

He shrugged, turning his back on me as he waited for the kettle to boil.

"Cal."

"Give me a few more minutes of non-puky bliss. Rehydration won't do much if I throw it all right back up again."

He had a point. I rubbed my forehead and asked, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Well, I'm not puking." He pressed a hand to his mouth, swallowing hard for a few seconds before adding, "Yet."

"Still smelling it?"

"Can we not talk about it?"

"That bad?"

"Yeah." He turned around and filled my cup. "Which kind of leaf water?"

I pointed at a jar of chamomile. He set it in front of me with a spoon and my favorite tea strainer. For someone who loathed and mocked my fondness for tea, he seemed to know my preferences well.

"Thank you." I spooned some tea into the strainer.

He shrugged like it was no big deal and slumped into the chair across from me. "So what does _under the weather_ mean for you, Cyrano? Most people whine about a runny nose. You're not most people. How sick are you?"

After taking a sip of tea, I said, "I'm not that sick."

"You wouldn't have admitted you were sick if you weren't sick."

"I feel a bit feverish and my muscles ache. Nothing big or serious, Cal. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep."

He stared at me doubtfully.

"I'm fine." I took another sip of tea then said, "You need to drink some water."

"You really want me to throw up, don't you?" He rested his chin on one hand, twirling the container of chamomile around with his other hand.

"I do not."

"Give me another ten minutes."

He was still the color of paper so I nodded. There was no point in arguing. Dehydrated or not, he wasn't going to drink anything until he was good and ready to.

"How's the tea?" he asked, tapping the mug with one finger.

"It's good."

"Need anything else?"

"No. I'm going to finish the tea and then I'm going to get a good night's sleep and I'll be fine in the morning." It was a lofty prediction, but held all the confidence I could muster given how lousy I was feeling.

Cal raised an eyebrow, but didn't voice his obvious disbelief which was unusually thoughtful. Instead, he pushed himself slowly to his feet and said, "I'm taking another shower."

I watched him go without comment. My head was beginning to pound. I took another sip of tea. Medication was next on the agenda, as much as I tried not to take pills. Tonight was an exception to many things. I took two tablets in the hopes that, in addition to a good night's sleep, I might be myself again in the morning.

The shower was still running when I walked by a little later. His first two showers had both taken nearly half an hour. It seemed this one would be no different. Whatever that creature had been, its stench was long lasting and overwhelming. I was reminded of the need to discuss the matter with Robin, but my overall fatigue and discomfort ensured that would be a discussion for tomorrow.

Braving the hazardous waste dump that was my brother's room, I left a cup of water on the small table next to Cal's bed on my way to my room. With any luck, he might actually drink some of it before he passed out from dehydration. On any other day, I would never have left such a thing to chance. Today, though, I was going to be fortunate if I made it to my own bed before I was the one who passed out.

The floor seemed to be wavering beneath my feet as I walked into my room. Hot and cold and dizzy and unsteady, I crossed the room. Reaching the bed, I crawled up the mattress to flop face down against my pillow. My fingers closed around the hilt of the blade I kept under my pillow. I was far from my best, but I would still put a dent in whatever might potentially attack us in the night.

I fell asleep before the shower turned off.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Well, it's certainly been an interesting week since I last posted! :) I hope everyone's doing alright and staying safe and calm. Idk about you, but I definitely need an escape from reality and reading some good fanfic has gotten me through the weekend (along with a "Fringe" binge haha). If only my new amazon firestick hadn't been delayed (thanks corona), I would've been starting on The Mandalorian. Ah well. It was a chill weekend which I needed in order to be able to face the week ahead lol.
> 
> Let's check in on the Leandros brothers and see how they're faring...(hint? not so well...)

* * *

_**Cal** _

The third shower hadn't worked any miracles, but it _had_ helped take the stench down another notch. I could almost make it five whole minutes at a time without gagging up my esophagus and stomach lining. Progress.

I had to lean over the sink for a few minutes, concentrating hard on that whole not gagging thing before I could finish toweling off and getting dressed. After getting my gut back under some semblance of control, I managed to pull on clean underwear and a pair of mostly clean sweatpants. My hair was still dripping but I didn't have enough energy or motivation to bother toweling off.

At this point, I was going to be lucky to make it to my bed and I wasn't going _near_ my bed until I checked on Nik. Something was very wrong with him and that worried me more than anything. I could handle my screwed up genetics and monstrously amped up sense of smell. It sucked, but I could handle it.

What I couldn't handle was my brother being sick.

Monsters were annoying, my brother's sickness was terrifying.

I was at a complete loss. He'd barely ever been sick in our entire lives and he'd never been sick since we'd settled in New York. Beyond making him a cup of tea and maybe a bowl of chicken noodle soup because people seemed to think that was a miracle cure or something, I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do. I hate not knowing what to do.

Focus.

Another thing I wasn't particularly good at.

I left the bathroom and focused on getting to my brother. Reaching his bedroom without any vomiting or other issues, I peeked in the open door. He was on his bed, but he wasn't sleeping. At least not soundly or comfortably. On his back on top of the covers, he was moving restlessly. Head tossing back and forth, his hands clutching at the sheets. His eyes were closed and his lips moving silently.

Well, shit.

I hovered in the doorway, wondering if I should wake him up or if I should just let him sleep it off. And then he sat up and nearly scared the crap out of me.

"Cal?"

Of _course._ Of course he'd wake up at the merest hint of my nearness. Practically unconscious and out of his head with a fever, he was still more with it than I was on my best day.

"Hey," I croaked out, trying to calm my racing heart. He'd popped up like a corpse rising from the dead. I couldn't help it if my heart was human enough to freak the hell out.

"Are you alright?" he asked calmly. Like _I_ was the one who was under the weather.

"I'm fine."

"Hmm." He studied me blearily for a moment, then flopped backwards.

"How are you doing?" I asked, leaning a shoulder on the door frame.

He groaned. Actually groaned. Like a human being.

That was concerning.

"Nik?"

"'m ok. Headache."

"And?"

"Everything else aches."

"More meds?"

"Too soon." He waved a hand. "Get some sleep. I'm fine."

I walked into the room and grabbed his phone from the dresser. Ensuring it was charged, I put it in his hand.

"Don't lose that." The _if you need anything call me_ was left unstated.

Eyes still closed, he waved the hand with the phone in it.

Not completely reassured, I went to my room anyway. Maybe it was just a mild cold or something. He was coherent and alert enough to speak to me. All I could do was hope.

I crashed on my bed, suddenly exhausted. It hadn't been that long of a day, but throwing up everything I'd eaten in the past two days had a way of wearing me out. Turning my face out of the pillow, the glass of water next to my bed caught my attention.

Nik.

Always thinking of me. Even when he was sick. It kind of pissed me off. He never took any time for himself. Never focused on his own needs or wants. Never stopped worrying about me.

With a sigh, I pushed myself upright and took a drink because I could _hear_ Nik nagging at me to rehydrate.

The water hit my gut exactly as I'd expected it to - as a lead weight. Groaning, I curled around a pillow. Three showers and I could still smell that damned creature. Nik had triple bagged up our clothes and shoved them in the trunk of his car. They were going to have to burn; no amount of washing would ever render them wearable again. Maybe we'd have to burn the car too. That wouldn't be a great loss but I was going to miss my leather jacket.

I buried my face in the pillow and tried to convince my stomach not to reject the water. Nik was right about the dehydration (when _wasn't_ he right?). The room seemed to be spinning and I was suddenly dizzy as hell.

I clung to the pillow, hoped for the best, and, unexpectedly, fell asleep.

* * *

Sleeping like the dead was great until you woke up and still _felt_ like the dead.

When I woke up it was to a pounding head and the sound of Nik calling my name.

If it hadn't been for the headache, I would've shouted at him to leave me alone like I did most mornings. I didn't know what time it was, but I was sure it was too early for me to be awake. Instead of shouting, though, I held really still and hoped my head wouldn't explode. Remembering _why_ I felt like crap took a moment longer and then I was pushing myself upright; exploding head be damned.

"Nik?" I called, fear tightening around my heart as my fingers tightened around my gun.

My room was dark, so it wasn't morning yet. My brain was slow to swim through the disorientation, but my body was already moving toward the door. Nik wasn't calling me to get me up for a ten mile run. He wasn't calling me to take out the trash or any other menial task. He was calling me because he needed me.

Stumbling to the doorway, I put my free hand out to catch myself before I wound up on the floor. My legs were about as steady as limp noodles. Gritting my teeth against the pounding in my head, I leaned against the wall and slowly shuffled toward Nik's room. Thankfully we weren't rich and our rooms were very close or I would've been crawling.

Mouth dry, I called his name again. He was mumbling, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. That made me hurry faster.

My sluggish brain worked through the fuzzy memories as I moved. The hunt came back in vivid, goopy neon purple color. It explained why I felt like crap. But Nik, Nik was sick. The flu?

I made it to his bedroom door without incident which would have been something to celebrate except I was too busy trying not to panic.

"Nik?"

He was struggling to stand up and I reached his side in just enough time to push him back onto the edge of the bed before he fell over. Reaching out for me, his grey eyes were glazed and wild. As soon as he tightened his fingers around my wrist, though, some of the wildness faded.

"Cal?"

"Yeah." I sat down heavily next to him. "What's wrong?"

"I...you were…" His voice trailed off as he frowned. Staring at me like I was a puzzle, his grip on my wrist didn't let up. "I thought I saw you…"

He didn't finish the sentence and he didn't need to. I'd had enough nightmares of his death that I knew what he'd seen.

"I'm fine," I reassured, studying him in the moonlight. His skin was clammy and pale, his breaths too quick. "You awake?"

"I'm awake." Despite his affirmation, he was staring at me like he wasn't sure I was real. One hand still gripping my wrist, he said, "I think I'm sick."

It wasn't really something to laugh about, but the dumbfounded expression on his face was hilarious. He just couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that he - Mr. Health and Wellness himself - was sick. I laughed. And then I cursed because laughing made my head hurt ten times worse than it already did.

Rubbing my forehead with my free hand, I said, "You're definitely sick."

"Are you sick?"

"No. I just have a headache."

"Did you drink the water?"

It was a relief to have him nag me about the water because it meant he wasn't completely out of his head with delirium or something.

"I drank some of it." I wasn't going to lie to him. Sick or not he'd know. He always knew. It was annoying.

He stared at me, analyzing my statement and my condition. The super smart ninja senses weren't tingling though. He just looked confused. Maybe he was still struggling to adapt to the knowledge that he was sick. If I waited for him to come to terms with his traitorous immune system, we'd both be up all night and I really wanted to be unconscious.

"Do you need anything?" I asked, shaking my wrist free from his grip. It was easier than it should have been.

"I don't…" His eyes slipped shut and he was wavering where he sat.

This was _so_ not good.

"Alright." I stood up and did some wavering of my own. But I managed to stay on my feet as I carefully pushed him back toward his pillow. "Bed time for big brother."

"Cal."

"What?"

"We have to go." His shaking fingers weakly grasped at mine.

I sat back down next to him. Patting his hand as I settled it against his chest, I said, "What are you talking about?"

"We... we have to keep moving." His eyes were bleary and rolling around like marbles as he surveyed the room with too much anxiety for my liking. "They'll find...they'll come."

"Nobody's coming. No one's gonna _wanna_ come over if you've got the flu. Maybe Promise will," I mused. "Maybe she'll make you soup."

"Promise?"

Well crap. This was bad and getting worse.

"Yeah. Promise. Your super hot vampire girlfriend."

Nik just looked at me like I was crazy and I kind of wished I _was_ crazy because it would be so much better than him being crazy. Or delirious. Or whatever. I put my hand to his forehead and my terror level went up another notch. He was burning up. Absolutely burning up.

"Shit, Nik." I slid my fingers down to the side of his neck and felt his pulse. It was racing. "We gotta get you cooled down."

He shook his head back and forth, his fingers grabbing at the knee of my sweatpants. "Gotta go. We gotta go, Cal. The Grendals. They'll find us."

_Crap crap crap crap._

"Nik, we're safe." As safe as we ever were. "There aren't any Grendals looking for us."

Tugging at my pants, he kept whispering _we have to go_ over and over again. No matter how many times I repeated back to him that we were safe, he just kept saying it and growing more and more distressed. He wasn't the only one getting distressed.

I could stitch a knife wound or a bullet hole. I could dig out a bullet. I could deal with broken bones and concussions and any number of other injuries. Only once in our lives, though, had he ever been this sick, this feverish. I'd almost burned down an entire trailer park to get medications for him. The nightmarish memories assaulted me until I was nearly paralyzed with anxiety. Nik was mumbling and burning with fever and I was shutting down.

He started pushing himself up and that helped snap me out of the developing panic attack.

"Nik, stay still." My voice was unsteady but firm. Pushing him back against the pillow, I said, "You need to focus on me, ok? Can you do that?"

I really wasn't sure anything was getting past the fever, but he nodded and did stop trying to sit up, so that was something.

"Ok. Stay put. I have to get...something." Cold cloths? Tylenol? Ice packs? I would sort it out in a minute. "You need to stay still."

"Not safe."

"It _is_ safe. Trust me."

He did. He always did, whether he should have or not. Nik nodded and released his grip on my pants.

"Ok. I'll be right back, Nik. I promise."

He nodded again, his eyes slipping closed.

Immediate crisis averted, I got back to my feet with difficulty. As I crossed the room, I debated my options. Cold compresses were pretty standard fever management and I wasn't a complete idiot, or so I told myself anyway. The temptation to call Promise was strong, though. She'd answer. Even in the middle of the night, she'd answer.

I'd start with what I knew to do and see if it would be enough.

In the bathroom, I turned the tap to the coldest it would go. While it ran, I grabbed the Tylenol and some towels. I didn't need a thermometer to know this wasn't a dainty one washcloth kind of fever. We were going to be lucky if we managed not to be taking a cold shower together tonight.

I filled up a cup with water, then lowered my head, arms resting on the edge of the sink. It wouldn't do Nik any good if I fell over. It was an unfortunate possibility, honestly.

Cursing under my breath, I dropped the towels under the cold stream and sank to my knees. I pressed my head against the cupboard and breathed through the lightheadedness that was sweeping over me in nauseating waves. I should have finished that cup of water he'd left me.

When I could move without passing out, I lifted the cup I still had in my hand and took a drink. It was only a bandaid on a gaping wound, but I had to start somewhere. Rehydrating wasn't going to happen instantly. I needed to eat something, too. My mind was fuzzy. Prioritization wasn't my strong suit on a good day but since I was the one in better shape - more or less - I needed to figure stuff out for myself.

So I finished the water, dragged myself to my feet and filled the cup again. The second cup didn't go down as easily as the first had, but it didn't come back up again, either. I filled the cup for a third time and then squeezed out the towels and turned off the water.

Getting back to Nik's room took a lot of concentration and even more cursing. Nik would've smacked the back of my head and given me a disapproving look, but the cursing was necessary motivation for me. It also helped keep me alert when things started going fuzzy again. The water had been a good first step, but I _really_ needed to eat.

Eating had to wait, though, because I had a fire to put out.

"Nik?" I asked as I walked into his room.

He blinked at me like he was in a daze, but his lips formed my name. He might have forgotten Promise but at least he still knew me. I probably took a bit more satisfaction in that than I should have.

"Hey," I said, wavering my way to his bedside. I slumped heavily next to him.

After setting the cup on the nightstand, I unfolded one of the towels to spread over his forehead. He shivered hard and if I wasn't his brother and he wasn't half-dead, I _would_ have been dead.

I pushed his hand away from my throat.

"Nik, calm down. You've got a fever."

He came at me again, with his fists this time.

_So much for knowing me._

I caught his wrists and said, "Don't kill me. I'm trying to help, damn it."

He went boneless at that and there was a little more clarity in his eyes now. Maybe he hadn't been all the way awake when I'd put the cloth over his head. We both tended to be a lot dangerous when we weren't all the way awake. I should've known better.

"Cal?" he whispered. He didn't try to pull his hands away, just stared up at me. "I don't...I'm not...what happened?"

Grateful for a semi-coherent question, I said, "You're sick. You've got a bad fever."

He sighed and closed his eyes. "I feel-"

"Awful," I finished for him. "You feel awful. Just like you look."

For that, I got a light swat to my side as he said, "I was going to say I feel like crap."

It wasn't what I would consider off color language, but for Nik, it was practically profanity.

I snorted and asked, "You gonna try to kill me again if I put some more cold towels on you?"

"Depends on where you're planning to put them."

"A whole sentence. One that made sense." I smiled. "Maybe you're gonna live after all."

It was a joke, of course, but a very real fear was gnawing at my insides. He was making more sense right now, but I wasn't soon to forget how out of his head he'd been. I arranged the other towels against his neck and chest and he didn't try to kill me, so those must have been acceptable locations.

"How long...have I been out?" He was a little breathless and his eyes were still closed.

I shrugged. "Dunno. Haven't been paying attention."

"Time's it?"

"After two. Just." I yawned.

"You alright?"

"Yes."

This time, he squinted one eye open to give me a doubtful look. "You don't look alright."

"How would you know? Your eyes are practically crossed."

"Cal."

"I'm fine. I've got a headache, but I'm ok. And yes, I've been drinking water. We had this conversation already. Although, you probably forgot." Despite the circumstances, the wicked little brother in me couldn't resist saying, "Like you forgot your girlfriend. Wonder how Promise would feel about that?"

He was obviously more oriented because I got another swat to the side.

Things were looking up.

* * *

_**Nik** _

The sun was long past its peak when I opened heavy, gummy eyes.

I never slept late, but today my body had made an exception. Rolling my head to the side, the clock mocked me with the announcement that it was nearly eleven. Fevered or not, I had a difficult time accepting the obvious.

Rubbing my eyes, I studied the clock again, but the numbers didn't change. Almost eleven. For Cal, it was at least two hours earlier than he preferred to rise, but I wasn't sure I'd ever slept this late. Ever. Pushing myself upright didn't get me far. I flopped heavily back against the pillows. This was unacceptable.

With a little more concentration and determination, I rolled to the side and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. It took a long minute of struggle before I could push myself into a sitting position. Once upright, I had to brace both my hands on the edge of the bed and lower my head as the room spun around me.

It took longer than I would have preferred, but eventually I was on my feet. More or less. I nearly knocked the nightstand over as I wavered. Throwing out a hand at the last moment, I kept myself from collapsing to the floor. Embarrassment of such a fall aside, I doubted my ability to get back to my feet. Cal finding me on the floor was a distasteful thought.

Cal.

Frowning, I glanced at my door. It was open. I took a slow breath, then braved the few steps between the bed and the door. I made it, but only because I caught myself on the doorframe. This was worse than I'd realized. _I_ was worse than I'd realized.

Sick or not, I needed to find my brother. It was nearly eleven and I could barely stand upright and I had no idea where Cal was. It seemed most likely that he would be either still sound asleep or else dozing on the couch. I couldn't take that chance, though. I needed confirmation.

As I shielded my eyes from the bright sunshine flooding the hallway, memories of the previous evening's adventures came back in vivid color. The job at the old estate. The creature of indeterminate substance. Our surprise victory over it. The stench.

Concern improved my balance incredibly. I'd tried to get Cal to drink something last night to make up for the fluids he'd lost thanks to the noxious odors the creature emitted. I'd fallen asleep without confirming he drank anything. Without confirming he was alright.

Unacceptable.

Regaining more stability as I walked, I glanced into his bedroom. Empty. The bathroom was as well, so I continued on to the main living area. Soft sounds drew me toward the kitchen.

Cal was at the counter, stirring a greenish fluid in a tall glass. His expression was a picture of concentration as he worked.

I crossed the room and said, "Cal."

He dropped the spoon, cursed flamboyantly, and his hand went for the gun he had next to the milk on the counter. It was a startle reflex only. He knew it was me. If it hadn't been me, whoever had just walked into the room would likely have been well ventilated.

Breathing hard, he shook his head and looked me up and down.

"Sorry," I apologized quietly.

"You almost got shot."

I knew better.

"What the hell, Nik?" He was still shaking his head. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I was merely joining you for a late breakfast."

"No, you were _merely_ shocking the crap out of me." He sucked in a huge breath, bristling with annoyance and probably a bit of embarrassment that he'd been caught off guard. Kicking a chair back from the table, he said, "Sit down."

Not in the habit of being bossed by my brother, I did what he said anyway. I was a little steadier on my feet, but sitting down wasn't a bad idea. Settling in the chair, I met Cal's evaluating stare.

"You're up early," I said, trying to shift his attention from me while also hoping to determine how he was doing.

"And you're up late," he countered, arms folded across his chest. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow.

There was no point in lying, so I added, "I do not feel one hundred percent."

"Yeah, no shit Sherlock." He shook his head and turned away from me. When he turned around again, it was to hand me the thermometer.

"Does that even have batteries?" I asked, taking the device. The only reason we even had one was because it had come with one of the many first aid kits we'd amassed over the years. I didn't think we'd ever used it.

"Yes. I checked. Put it in your mouth before I find a different place to shove it."

I smiled a little at his terrible bedside manner and didn't bother trying to argue. Cal stared at me the entire time and snatched the thermometer from me the instant it beeped.

"102." Cal's expression darkened as he looked up from the thermometer. "You're sick."

"I thought we already knew that."

He didn't comment, just dropped a couple pills in front of me followed by a glass of water. I took the pills while he finished mixing up whatever was in the other glass.

"You want anything more than your weed water?" he asked, setting the second glass on the table.

"For now, I'm good, thank you. Did you eat?"

A distracted wave of his hand drew my attention to the bowl of leftover cereal on the counter.

Cal slouched into the chair across from me. "You get any sleep?"

"More sleep than you did, it appears."

"Have you _ever_ slept past seven am?" Cal rested his chin in his hand. "Like in your entire life?"

"Not that I recall," I answered honestly.

"Creeped me out all night."

"You were watching me sleep?" I raised an eyebrow.

A faint blush colored his pale skin and he looked away.

Tempting as it was to further embarrass or annoy him, I refrained. Even without him admitting it aloud, I knew he'd checked on me many times during the night. Having spent innumerable nights sitting at his side or watching silently from the doorway of his room, I fully understood the fear that would have kept him up. There was no point asking if he'd gotten any sleep; the exhaustion was plain as the nose on my face. Which, if Cal were to be consulted on the subject, was all too plain.

After taking a sip of my 'weed water', I said, "I should call Robin. Ask him about the creature."

"Already did."

"It did not go well?" The question was unnecessary. Cal's tone said it all. "He was uncooperative?"

"He was _busy._ " Cal muttered, wrinkling his nose.

"Ah."

I did not want nor did I require clarification on what Robin had been busy doing. The only clarification needed was _who_ he'd been doing, and that was a clarification I most definitely did _not_ want.

"He said he'd call back later."

"Very well." I finished my breakfast. "There are other things we can do to occupy ourselves while we wait."

Cal snorted. "The only thing you're occupying yourself with, Cyrano, is getting your ass back to bed."

"I will not be spending the entire day in bed. I've already lost the entire morning."

"No great loss." Cal yawned dramatically. He waved the thermometer in front of my face. "You. Are. Sick."

"I have a mild fever." _And body aches, a sore throat, disturbing weakness and tingling in my extremities._ "Nothing worth mentioning."

"Yes. A mild fever that could get worse at any point. It's 102, Nik. I know you're superhuman and all, but that's not something to play around with."

"Very well. I'll take it easy." I patted his shoulder. "Perhaps you should take a nap, though. You're rather cranky."

He gave me his favorite finger and turned away. "I'm trying Robin again."

I didn't argue with him, merely took advantage of him turning away. Pushing myself to my feet, I made my way unsteadily into what counted as our living room and make-shift dojo. My typical schedule was completely destroyed, but I needed some kind of normality.

Working through a few slow katas while listening to my brother's animated conversation with Robin wasn't exactly relaxing. I was also finding it more difficult than it should have been to stay on my feet. When the options became sit down or fall down, I opted for the former. Easing myself down onto the mat, I folded my legs beneath me and pressed my hands against the mat.

Closing my eyes, I controlled my breath and fought the spinning sensation. Meditation and focus had served me well my entire life and I hoped right now would be no exception. If I was going to convince my brother I was fine, I had to start getting _fine._

_tbc..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Take care!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! Hope everyone's doing alright despite the crazy of the world right now. For something a little less grim and far more entertaining, here is chapter three! Enjoy!

* * *

_**Cal** _

He'd spent the day trying to convince himself he was ok. Sure, he was trying to convince me he was ok, too, but since I was a helluva lot smarter than I looked, I didn't buy it. Not for a minute.

Nik worked through his mind numbing meditations while I tried to get an answer from Robin. Neither of us were very successful. I gave up on Robin and turned on the television. Nik lasted a few more minutes on the mat before he got up and went to clean the mess in the kitchen.

If I was a nicer brother, I would have gotten up and done it so he didn't have to. He was the one who was sick. But I honestly wanted to see how long it was going to take him to realize he needed to take an actual break. He wasn't going to accept any coddling - not that I was any good at that - if he was still pretending he was just peachy. No, genius big brother was probably going to have to fall over before he decided he needed to take a nap.

I watched him from the couch, half asleep. I hadn't creeped on him the entire night, but I'd checked in on him several times to allay my worries. Of course, the fact that I'd still been battling some record breaking nausea had helped keep me awake. Now he was upright and pretending to be fine and the fatigue had caught up with me in a big way. Hard as I was fighting it, the fatigue swept me into sleep.

Despite the exhaustion and quick descent into sleep, I was awake again less than an hour later.

A nightmare had me screaming back to consciousness. My face collided with the edge of the coffee table before I sprawled out on the floor, out of breath and drenched in a cold sweat. Gasping, I pushed myself upright, heart thudding in my ears as my gaze bounced around the room, searching for threats.

There were none, I established quickly. Nightmare. Just a nightmare. Shakily, I leaned back against the couch and ran my hands over my face. When I still wasn't able to regain control, I put my head down against my knees. It had been a long time since I'd had a nightmare that brought me up screaming from a nap.

It was an unwelcome feeling. Felt like losing ground all over again. I sat there shivering and cursing and all but coming apart at the seams. Even as I attempted to sort through my nervous breakdown, a niggling worry began to edge out the panic.

Nik.

Where was he? There was no way he hadn't heard me. No way. He always heard me and was always beside me when I needed him. I was recovering quickly now that I had something to focus on. Whatever the nightmare had been about, it was fading and I sure as hell wasn't wasting any time trying to remember what it had been about.

I lifted my head and a shiver ran through me.

The room was empty.

"Nik?" I called out, my voice rough and softer than I'd intended.

No answer.

I used the coffee table to leverage myself to my feet. The smack I'd taken to the face stung but hadn't caused a headache and probably wouldn't even bruise. I rubbed the sore spot as I hurried toward the other end of the apartment.

Nik was in bed. Asleep and shivering despite his long sleeved shirt and a pile of blankets. Relief left me slumping against the door frame. My heart rate slowly returned to normal as I stood there. It was too early for more medications and disturbing what sleep he was able to get didn't seem very kind, so I watched him for a few minutes longer before I quietly walked away.

He was sick enough that he hadn't roused at my presence or my retreat. Not good at all.

I stood in the kitchen, hands on my hips. Whatever he'd gone into the kitchen to do, he hadn't gotten very far. Everything was still a mess. It looked like all he'd accomplished was rinsing out my cereal bowl. Yet another sign of how unwell he was. Nik never left a job incomplete. I could go days without finishing a task. Only monster invasions and home intruders could waylay him; and sometimes not even then.

Leaving the kitchen alone had some appeal, but there was no way I'd be going back to sleep anytime soon. The nightmare had destroyed my interest in sleep for the foreseeable future. Since Robin was thus far proving unhelpful and my brother was indisposed, I decided to wash the dishes.

It was a shocking turn of events. If he had been in peak condition, Nik probably would have been checking _me_ for fever which was actually somewhat unfair. I did do the dishes. Occasionally. I even cleaned. Sometimes.

I was a lot more likely to do chores when I needed to distract myself from things like nightmares and sick brothers.

I finished the dishes and wiped down the counter top. There was still no sign of my brother and my phone wasn't ringing which meant Robin didn't have an answer yet. I decided to mop the floor. It was just as well Nik was asleep because I didn't want to give my brother a stroke. If he saw me working this hard without having told me a dozen times to do it, he'd probably keel over.

I mopped the floor, not well, but I mopped it. Then I went to check on Nik because it had been a whole twenty minutes since the last time I'd done so. This time, he was sitting up on the edge of his bed.

"Nik?"

He glanced my way.

"Hey."

"Hey." I leaned against the doorframe. "You need anything?"

He shook his head. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Did Robin have any answers?"

"No. Shockingly, we've come across something even Goodfellow the magnificent hasn't heard of." I snorted. "He's supposed to call when he figures something out."

"I need to contact the client."

"Just tell me what to say and I'll call them."

"Perhaps it would be better if I did." Nik was being infuriatingly tactful which, of course, meant what he _wasn't_ saying was that he didn't want me to talk to the client because I'd screw everything up.

I shrugged because if his mind was made up, I wasn't going to change it. "Do you want me to bring your phone?"

"No. I'll get up." He waved a hand.

"You feeling any better at all?" I asked delusionally yet hopefully.

"Perhaps a little."

"Perhaps not at all," I said, grabbing at his arm as he wavered. Already nearly as pale as I was on an ordinary day, he went another shade whiter. I pushed him back down onto the bed. "Sit. Stay."

Even weak as a kitten, he could kill me twenty different ways without breaking a sweat, but he sat.

"I'll get your phone if you insist, but you're not leaving that bed."

A wave of his hand in surrender was another testament to his misery. I started to move away to find his phone, but he caught my arm first.

"Nik?"

His eyes were glassy and unfocused as he said, "The phone number for the client is on the fridge."

Permission to call the client. Would wonders never cease? Much as I wanted him to take it easy and accept his limitations, I wasn't happy being confronted with those limitations. It wasn't that he never trusted me to talk to clients or handle some of the less violent aspects of our work. It was just that he _almost_ never did.

"Ok. I'll call them and then I'll bring you some water or something."

Nik nodded, easing back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

Leaving him be, I went to make the phone call.

More specifically? I went to call Promise. She was part of the team. Part of the business. She'd even been the one to make first contact with the client this time. Share the burden, share the love.

My favorite vampire answered on the first ring. " _Cal?"_

"Hey, Promise." I tried to think of something to say that was in the realm of polite, social conversation and then gave up and asked, "Can you call the client for us?"

" _I'm doing well, thank you for asking_ ," Promise said smoothly. " _How are you?"_

So I failed Manners 101. I was half-monster, sue me.

"I'm fine. Nik's sick. Can you call the client and tell them the job's done?"

" _He's sick_?" There was disbelief in her tone. I couldn't blame her; I was still having trouble believing it myself. " _How sick?"_

"Sick enough he's staying in bed." Translation? Nigh unto death. "He's got the flu or something."

" _He was fine yesterday."_ I was sure I was imagining the faintly accusing tone. " _When did he become ill?"_

"Last night. After we got home from the job." I filled up a glass of water as we talked. "So can you please call the client?"

" _I will call them. I am with the Board all day in meetings. I'll come over this evening as soon as I'm free."_

"He's probably contagious."

" _I'll come over this evening as soon as I'm free,"_ she repeated in no uncertain terms.

There was no point in arguing with her so I didn't. I leaned back against the counter, glancing at the mess in the living room. _My_ mess because Nik never made messes. I bet even his finger painting at three years old had been art museum quality.

" _How are you feeling, Caliban?_ " Promise asked solicitously. " _Are you ill as well?"_

"Nope. Monster genes." Nik would have slapped the back of my head for that comment, but Promise just sighed in that gentle, ladylike way of hers.

" _I'm glad you are not ill. Is there anything I can do? I can have whatever you need sent over until I'm able to-"_

"We're ok. He's mostly just lying around and sweating."

" _He's fevered."_ She was silent for a moment, then rattled off a list of remedies and directions and made me repeat them all back to her twice. " _I'm sure it is, as you said, merely the flu. However, if his fever stays at 103 for an extended period of time or spikes above that, please call me. I will come immediately and take him to the hospital."_

It was nice of her to offer. Hospitals and I were not good bedfellows. At all.

"Thanks, Promise. I'll keep you posted."

" _Is he awake? Could I speak with him?"_

Glass of water in my hand, I headed toward his room. "Hang on, I'm gonna check."

As soon as I hit the threshold, his eyes were open.

"Promise wants to talk to you." I held out the phone.

"Thanks." His voice was soft, tired. "Promise? Hello."

I edged backwards.

I wasn't in the habit of eavesdropping on Nik and Promise's conversations. They didn't get much time to themselves thanks to my brother's infuriating obsession with keeping me safe. Pretty much every bad thing that has ever happened to us has happened to us because of me. The least I could do was give them some privacy.

So I went back to the living room and picked up the sweatshirt I'd left on the back of the couch yesterday. I walked it to my room and threw it on the bed. And then, for lack of anything better to do, I went back to the living room and picked up the t-shirt I'd dropped off the end of the couch. And the pair of socks under the couch. And the other three socks I found _behind_ the couch.

Since I was down there, I dug out the four plates I'd shoved under the couch at some point along with several empty magazines to my Glock. I picked up countless napkins.

The entire mess was from within the past twenty-four hours. None of my messes were allowed to fester beyond the twenty-four hour mark. Unless it was the mess behind my bedroom door. It was my one and only refuge from Nik's obsessive clean-freak rules.

After throwing the laundry into my refuge and finishing cleaning up the trash and dirty dishes, I went to check on my brother.

This time, as I stood in his doorway, he didn't open his eyes.

"Promise tell you to be a good patient?" I asked.

"Hmm."

Nik was a man of few words - unless he was lecturing some unfortunate soul, that soul typically being me - but this was lazy even for him. Leaning a shoulder against the door, I studied him carefully. He didn't look worse exactly, but he didn't look better, either.

"You don't need to hover, little brother," he murmured quietly, eyes still closed.

"Who's hovering? I just came to make sure Promise was dealing with the client so I can go take a nap."

His lips twitched in a hint of a smile, but he didn't say anything. The phone was still grasped in his hand, resting on the bed next to him. His breathing was soft and even like maybe he was going to fall asleep. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his skin and his dark blonde hair was damp at his temples.

I frowned, running a hand through my hair. Should I cover him up with a blanket? A sheet? What were you supposed to do with fevers again? I couldn't remember.

"Cal?"

"Yeah?"

"My mild fever and fatigue do not warrant continued observation." Nik was studying me now with an annoying amount of humor in his fevered eyes. "I merely need to rest."

"You've _been_ resting." I hated how I sounded like a petulant ten year old.

"And I shall rest a little longer and then I shall kick your ass for worrying."

I snorted.

"Cal. Go away or I'll kick your ass now and rest later."

He would, too.

"Alright, alright. I'm going."

"And stop worrying while you're at it."

Nik had spent every single minute of my entire life worrying about me, but I wasn't supposed to worry about him when the man who could _scare_ a germ away was down with the flu.

"Screw you," I muttered, turning away. I would have slammed the door, but I wasn't quite that cruel.

"Love you too, little brother."

I rolled my eyes and stomped my way across the hall to my bedroom just to make sure Nik knew I was annoyed with him. Self-sacrificing jerk. If I wanted to worry about him, I was damn well going to worry.

* * *

_**Nik** _

I was confident he hadn't intended to slam his door. He'd probably even thought he was being quiet. Cal could be silent when he absolutely needed to be, but it was not his default setting. If I wasn't sick, he would have slammed the door hard enough to shake the entire apartment. Of course, if I wasn't sick, he probably wouldn't be mad at me.

He wasn't exactly mad at _me_ for being sick. He was mad that I _was_ sick. And he was mad because he felt helpless. Helplessness made us feel weak and neither of us liked feeling weak.

Quiet as he was trying to be, every thump and thud and curse filtered beautifully across the hall. I might have yelled at him to shut up on an ordinary day, but today wasn't ordinary in any sense of the word. So I rested my hand over my eyes and thought about how much I loved my little brother.

After ten minutes of his version of cleaning his bedroom, it was getting more difficult to remember how much I loved my little brother.

The headache was pulsing behind my eyes, reducing my patience to rival that of my notoriously impatient brother. Despite the headache and misery, I was curious as to what Cal was doing in his room. I'd never heard so much activity behind that door. He only picked up his dirty clothes when I forced him to. And only then to march them to a washing machine. Then, they came back to his room and wound up right where they'd already been.

On the floor.

He had a lot of weapons in there along with the clothes, but precious little else. We'd never amassed a lot of possessions. It wasn't safe to be loaded down with items and we'd grown up living a Spartan lifestyle, so we'd never known anything different. I couldn't figure out how he was finding so much stuff to throw around.

I might have wondered why he'd decided today was a good day to rearrange the furniture in his room, but I didn't need to. I understood him better than he understood himself. He was worrying and his worry often manifested as anger. Much as I didn't want him to worry about me, it wasn't like I didn't understand _why_ he was worrying so much. If he'd been the one who was sick and in bed, I probably would have been frantic. I rarely got sick, and he _never_ got sick. This unexpected turn of events was testing us both.

After a few more minutes, things quieted down. Whether it meant he had run out of things to throw or if he'd fallen asleep, I didn't know. But the lack of noise did help ease my mind and headache.

For awhile I drifted on the edge of sleep, but I never quite made it. I was tired and uncomfortable, but there was little point in staying in bed if I wasn't going to be able to sleep. So I pushed myself to my feet. The weakness throughout my body was troubling. I was lightheaded, but kept moving.

I stepped into the hall, intent on seeking hydration and nutrition. Not because I was really interested in drinking or eating anything. I just knew we both needed to eat.

Cal's door was slightly ajar and I peered into his room. He was sitting on the floor, back to his bed. He looked about as forlorn as I'd ever seen him, which was really saying something about how much my illness was bothering him.

The scarred wall in front of him had received many new scars today. He'd amassed a great number of knives over the years. He trained with them and, in times of stress or boredom, he threw them at his wall.

Right now, a dozen knives formed a frowning face. He had a can of red spray paint in his hand as he glared unblinkingly at his artwork. If I hadn't gotten up when I had, no doubt, he would have added some graffiti to the pockmarked wall. It was his room, he could do whatever he wanted to it, but I had to draw the line somewhere.

More importantly, I needed to pull him out of his funk.

"Cal."

He slanted a glance my way and asked, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Someone was redecorating their room, I see." A glance around showed me the redecorating had in fact gone beyond knife throwing. "Did you hide it all in the closet?"

That brought a slight smirk to his weary face. "No. I organized. Drawers and everything."

"Organization is perhaps too strong a word," I said, raising an eyebrow. The drawers were open and overflowing, but it was still an improvement over a carpet of black t-shirts and jeans.

Cal shrugged.

"Come." I motioned toward the kitchen. "Dinner."

"You're hungry?" He dropped the spray paint and got to his feet.

"Hungry is perhaps too strong a word." I smiled ruefully.

Cal grimaced; evidently, he was no more enthusiastic about the idea of food than I was. It didn't bode well for either of us, but I led the way to the kitchen and he followed. I almost made it without incident.

"Hey, hey," Cal said, grabbing at my arm as I wavered. "Easy there, Cyrano. You're wavering like Robin on a bender."

I would have argued at the comparison, but the room was spinning too much for me to speak.

Cal guided me to the dining room table and pushed me into a chair. I gripped the edge of the table and closed my eyes. Only once the dizziness settled down a little did I risk opening them again. Cal hadn't moved away from my side; studying me with his hands on his hips.

All he said, though, was, "What do you want to eat?"

I hadn't wanted to eat in the first place, and now I was even less interested.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Sit still."

I sat still. Watching him digging through the cupboards, I had strong doubts that he would be successful in finding anything edible much less palatable. A glass of water was set in front of me first and then a small pile of what had once been saltine crackers wound up next to the glass.

Cal scraped them thoughtfully into a vaguely square shape. It was ridiculous, unnecessary, and so very much like my brother that I took a piece of the "cracker" and forced it down with a sip of water. He busied himself at the stove, making a cup of tea.

I finished half of the cracker while he worked. Tempted as I was to put my head down against the table, if I did so, I'd never get it up again. Simply sitting at the table was putting undue stress on my body and the headache, briefly abated, was rapidly increasing again.

As much as I was trying to hide it, the pain must have shown on my face. The shake of a pill bottle sent jagged spears through my skull and then two white tablets were pushed across the table to me. I took them without an argument.

A cup of prepared tea was placed in front of me.

"You want...uh...eggs? Or toast?"

"Do we _have_ eggs or toast?"

"Uh…" he turned around and dug through the cupboard and then the fridge. "We have eggs, well, egg. The bread isn't moldy. Or if you want a veggie burger, I can do that."

"I think I'll try the toast."

"Yeah, you're sick alright if you're turning down vegetables." He snorted and turned away to shove a piece of bread in the toaster.

Resting my head in my hands, I muttered, "You need to eat, too."

He grunted.

"You still smell it?" I asked, massaging my temples.

"I'm going to be smelling it for the next month."

I was about to comment when my phone rang. Cal was jogging toward my bedroom before I even considered moving. Lifting my head with effort, I watched him reenter the room.

"Yeah, hang on," Cal said into the phone before handing it to me. "Promise."

Putting the phone to my ear, I answered, "Hello?"

" _Hello, my love. You do not sound well."_

One word and she thought I didn't sound well. I took a sip of water, then said, "I am fine."

" _You put such a high value on truth, Niko, and yet you are lying through your teeth to me right now."_ There was a hint of amusement in her town, but overlaid with a veneer of concern. " _You're worse."_

"Not really. About the same." It wasn't exactly a lie, but I wasn't going to get into specifics in front of my brother. Cal was watching the toaster like it was about to explode; practically vibrating with tension as he tapped impatient fingers against the counter. "How have your meetings been going?"

" _They are tedious and unimportant. I will stop by later this evening as soon as the final meeting is finished."_

"There is no need," I said, as a plate of toast was set down in front of me. It was unbuttered and slightly burnt.

" _What there is no need for is you being stubborn, Niko Leandros. If you are concerned about getting me sick, there is no cause. My immune system is quite strong."_

"I understand." I rubbed my eyes. There was as much point trying to argue with her as there was trying to argue with my brother. In this, they were both going to win. "If you would like to come over, I would be pleased to see you."

Lowering my hand, I was just in time to catch sight of Cal's dramatic eye roll as he mouthed _pleased to see you_ with exaggeration. He hadn't intended me to catch him, though, and I enjoyed the flush of embarrassment heating his face and ears to a bright pink.

And he thought he was a monster.

He turned away quickly, muttering to himself under his breath and slamming the cupboard door. Grumpy little brother, yes, but monster, no. never.

" _I am afraid I will not be free for several more hours, but I shall come to you straight away. Is there anything I can bring you, my darling?"_

"I think not. But thank you."

" _Very well. Do not exert yourself or I shall have no choice but to request Cal sit on you."_

I smiled, watching Cal shake the ketchup bottle violently over the sandwich he was prepping for himself. Ketchup splattered all over the bread, the counter, and his shirt. He set the bottle aside and smushed the sandwich closed. Taking a gigantic bite, he wound up with ketchup and mustard on his chin.

"I am truly terrified."

Promise laughed lightly. " _Behave, Niko, and I shall see you tonight._ "

As soon as I hung up the phone, Cal asked, "She coming over?"

"Yes."

"I'll make her a sandwich."

I doubted she would be interested in a sandwich, much less a Cal-creation, but I didn't comment. Cal hopped up on the counter across from me and worked his way messily through his sandwich while I cautiously took a bite of the toast. It settled, but I was disinterested in taking chances, so I only finished half the piece. I sipped the tea as Cal set his own plate aside. He was looking a little green but before I could ask him how he was doing, he spoke up.

"You need to go back to bed. You look like you're going to fall over and Promise will have my ass if you do."

"I shall endeavor to protect your greatest asset, little brother."

"So, bed? You don't look like you're gonna stay upright long enough to even finish your tea."

That was exactly how I was feeling, as well, but I simply said, "A good rest will do me well."

Cal snorted, hopping down from the counter. "You keep saying that."

He grabbed my arm and helped me to my feet. As ridiculous as I felt accepting his help - _needing_ his help - I was in no shape to argue. Together we slowly walked toward the hallway. By the time we reached it, Cal had slung my arm over his shoulders and was practically dragging me along. If he hadn't been supporting me, I never would have made it, I was _that_ weak.

"You eat _grass._ " Cal was huffing and puffing. "How are you so heavy?"

"Muscle." It was the only thing I could grit out while trying to stay conscious and continue moving. If I hit the ground, Cal's ass wasn't going to be the only one in trouble.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled me toward the edge of my bed and we both sat down, groaning in relief.

If he hadn't still been holding me up, I would have slumped over immediately. With his help, though, I was able to slowly get settled in bed. After pulling the sheet up over me, Cal stood up.

"Stay put." He pressed one finger to my chest.

I closed my eyes. I had no intention of moving.

* * *

_**Cal** _

Nik was sound asleep by the time I got back to his room.

I set the thermometer, glass of water, and bottle of medication on the bedside table. He didn't stir and it freaked me out to no end. Nik was quiet, he was still, he was zen personified. But this? This was _wrong._

I watched him for a few minutes, then turned on my heel and headed for the kitchen. There wasn't anything I could do by hovering or else I would have continued to hover. What I _could_ do, though, was call Robin.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Well?" I asked, not bothering to disguise my impatience.

" _There is no name for it. So if you would like to name it, please for the love of Aphrodite, name it something other than Purple Goo Monster."_

"What do you mean there's no name for it?" I started putting condiments back in the refrigerator. "And it _was_ a Purple Goo Monster. Wouldn't it be nice if _all_ monsters went by such descriptive names? Make it a helluva lot easier to know what you're facing. You'd be called a-"

" _There is no need for a more descriptive name for a Puck,"_ Robin interrupted me. " _Puck tells you everything you need to know. Our reputation precedes us."_

"And then some. What do you mean there's no name for it?"

" _Considering you were educated by your brother, I find it remarkable that you remain so ignorant. There is no name for it. There never has been. No one knows what it is."_

I slammed the refrigerator door closed, knocking magnets off. Along with a machine gun shaped magnet went the to-do list Nik had left for me three days ago. I picked it up. _Huh._ One outta ten wasn't bad. Usually he didn't leave me such lengthy to-do lists. My attention span was not what it could be.

"Robin, I swear to-"

" _While I enjoy your creative and spirited swearing, we might find it more beneficial to move this conversation along."_

"You have somewhere to be?" I snarled, picking magnets up and replacing them on the fridge.

" _I don't in fact, although I have options and they are many."_

"I'm going to hang up."

" _I need you to check something for me."_

"What?" I rubbed a dish rag hard against a ketchup stain on the counter.

" _Does Niko have any injuries?"_

I straightened, staring blankly at the wall as I considered. "Not that I know of. What difference does that make?"

" _I need you to check. Your brother may not be sick from the flu."_

If he'd punched me in the gut with his fist, I wouldn't have felt as sick as I did in this moment.

"Robin." I could barely breathe and it took all my concentration not to take off at a run to Nik's room. "What are you talking about?"

" _Your Purple Goo Monster is poisonous."_

There went my restraint. I was at Nik's door in another heartbeat. He was sleeping, breathing, alive.

Keeping my voice low, I stood in the doorway and said, "What kind of poison?"

" _A complicated one. The creature excretes the only known poison to affect every single living thing."_

"And it doesn't have a name?" I shook my head in disbelief.

" _Enough with the name!"_ Robin's voice was tense, strained now. " _It affects every living thing. Everything. Plants, humans, Pucks, vampires, werewolves. Everything."_

I chewed my lip, frowning as Nik started moving restlessly.

"Auphe?" I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer. Whatever it was.

" _The Auphe are not the type to discuss such things. I would anticipate they would be vulnerable as well, but I have no way of knowing. How are you feeling?"_

"Super. Details. How bad's the poison? How do we know it's the poison and not the flu?"

" _Many of the symptoms are the same. Back to what I asked earlier though. Any injuries? The creature has a stinger. That's how the poison is injected into the victim."_

"I'd think he would have mentioned it if he'd been stung, Robin," I said, but I was already at Nik's side, tugging the blankets aside. "The poison's not in the goo? We got covered in the damn stuff."

" _It's not in the goo. It's injected."_

"Ok, so Nik's the only one who's going to get it?" I was checking his neck.

" _Unfortunately, not necessarily. The victim who is stung begins to breathe the poison out. You've been exposed, Cal, even if you weren't stung."_

Somehow the thought worried me a lot less than the fact Nik was sleeping through my examination. I pulled up his shirt and found unblemished skin.

"I really think he'd have noticed if he'd been…" my voice trailed off as I tugged on his sleeve. He was wearing a long sleeved sleep shirt and it had been hiding the very thing I was looking for.

A sting.

On his left arm, midway between elbow and wrist. How he hadn't noticed it I didn't know. It was tempting to tear my own clothes off and search for stings. But I wasn't sick, so I must not have been stung.

" _You found something, didn't you?"_ Robin's voice in my ear brought things back into focus.

"It looks like he got stung."

" _As I said."_

"So what do I do about it?" I stared at the wound, my fingers automatically sliding down to press against Nik's wrist. Pulse was fast but steady.

" _I don't know._ "

"Robin."

" _I'm going to look into it."_ There was a comforting level of confidence in his tone. " _I'll call you back as soon as I have an answer. The very minute."_

"I'll call Promise," I said, releasing Nik's wrist. "Tell her she can't come over. Robin?"

" _Yes?"_

"Is it...is this poison fatal?"

" _Not exclusively._ " Honesty.

I almost would have rather he lie to me.

He disconnected the call and I was left in silence. I immediately called Promise.

" _Cal? Is Niko worse?"_

"About the same. But you can't come over tonight. Robin says he's contagious."

She gave a surprisingly ladylike snort of derision.

"He said it's a poison that can affect every living thing." I ran a hand through my hair. "Robin's looking for more information, but you have to stay away from here."

" _I hardly believe that I would be affected. Are you still well?"_

"Yeah."

" _I'm sure Goodfellow is mistaken about this poison. Tell me what he said and more about the hunt. I will look into it myself."_

It wouldn't hurt to have two very old, very experienced people searching for answers. I told her everything I could remember from our gooey encounter. She said she'd call back with answers just like Robin had.

Once again, I was left in silence.

Nik's restless movements stilled and he seemed to fall into a deeper sleep. I hesitated, then left the room. Staring at him wasn't going to change anything. All it was going to do was make me more anxious than I already was. I'd talked to our two closest friends and, since my main source of support was fevered and unconscious, it didn't bode well for my continued sanity if I stood around wringing my hands.

I pocketed the phone and went back into the kitchen to renew my efforts at scrubbing ketchup off the counter.

Ten minutes later, the counters were shinier than I'd ever seen them. Fifteen minutes after that, I'd cleaned the entire refrigerator until it also sparkled. I paused my cleaning frenzy to check on my brother who was no better and no worse.

Returning to the kitchen, the microwave was next on my agenda. Thanks to Nik's penchant for health food and aversion to microwaved meals, the mess was all mine. It took me a long time to scrub the gunk clean.

It was good, distracting work. It took my mind off my brother's illness...no, it didn't. Not even a little. I scraped my knuckles repeatedly against the sides of the microwave, but even the sting of pain wasn't enough to distract me.

When you had one good thing in life, one thing that _was_ your life, only one thing mattered. Nik was the only good I'd ever had in life.

I wasn't what anyone would call sentimental; not even close, but when it came to Nik, I became a lot of things I usually wasn't. I didn't have a lot of good in me, but he brought it out. He was pretty much the only one who could. He was also pretty much the only one I worried about. Yeah, we had friends now, which was great. And I did worry about them, but I'd never worry about them like I worried about him.

"What's wrong?"

Like he worried about me.

I smiled a little at his hoarse question. I'd wound up at his door again and this time he'd finally stirred at my presence. There were so many ways to answer his question, but I just said, "Nothing's wrong, Nik."

He stared at me with bloodshot eyes and said, "I don't feel right."

"Yeah. Cuz you're sick." I sat on the edge of his bed. "Even super healthy ninjas don't feel good when they're sick. Disadvantage of being human, I guess."

I saw his tired expression change. Even sick, he'd caught the bitterness in my tone. Bitterness that he was sick despite his super healthy ninja ways and bitterness that I wasn't fully human and therefore not sick.

"Cal," he softly chided, reaching for my arm.

I dodged his reach and instead grabbed his arm. Pushing it back against his chest, I checked his pulse again. No change. His skin was still miserable hot to the touch.

"I'm getting some cold towels. I think your fever is worse."

He sighed and closed his eyes.

Gritting my teeth, I went for the towels.

Wetting them under the faucet, I glanced around the bathroom. I'd cleaned the kitchen already. If he didn't get better soon, I might have to wash the toilet.

Hell, if it meant he'd get better, I'd clean the toilet in a heartbeat.

_Just get better, Nik. I need you to get better._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Stay safe. Stay sane! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday...evening! I just couldn't get myself up early enough to post before work. 
> 
> Hope everyone's doing well!

* * *

_**Nik** _

Cal was turning out to be a very capable, if somewhat grumpy, nurse. I couldn't blame him for being grumpy, though. We were both tired, it was a painfully long night, and I was sick. He was worrying about me and wasn't feeling well, either, which made him crabby.

For the past hour or so, he'd been making slow trips to and from the bathroom to refresh the towels he was using to bring my temperature down. I'd taken the pills he'd given me and, between them and the towels, I was beginning to feel a little less fuzzy. The fever had hit me so hard, so fast, that I'd barely realized I wasn't feeling well before I'd been so far gone I'd barely known my own name.

With coherency, though, came a greater comprehension of my general state of misery.

I felt awful. I felt like what I imagined roadkill felt like after they'd been hit by their tenth truck of the day. I'm sure I've felt worse, but right now, I couldn't remember when.

The fever was down somewhat, but it still burned, leaving me weak and exhausted. My vision was blurry - something I wasn't sharing with my brother - and I still found myself losing track of time and situation. Ears ringing, throat sore, my entire body ached and I couldn't even sit up on my own. Cal had to help me lift my head to take sips of water.

I'm not sure which one of us was more disturbed by that fact.

The flu, or whatever it was, had come out of nowhere. I'd been feeling completely fine, and then, after we'd cleaned up from our gooey adventure, it had hit me. I'd tried to downplay it initially, but there was no downplaying it now.

Blinking heavily, I fought to stay awake. Cal was literally sitting up with me all night. Giving up his precious sleep. The least I could do was stay awake and try to get better.

I glanced toward the door as he stumbled into the room with the latest round of fresh, dripping towels. As sick as I was, the state of the floor wasn't something I was going to waste my breath discussing. He could mop it up later.

With great effort, I managed to drag my hand up to start pulling the towel off my neck. Cal smacked my hand away lightly. I didn't fight him as he switched out the towels. I honestly didn't feel up to moving. So I allowed him to do what he felt was necessary.

He swapped out the towels as had become routine, coaxed me into taking a sip of water, resettled the light blanket covering me, and then fell asleep right where he was sitting.

Miserable as I was, I smiled at the sight.

I had often envied his ability to fall asleep so easily. Our life had necessitated the ability to fall asleep in less than ideal conditions, but Cal had excelled at it. I'd seen him fall asleep walking toward his bed; not even waking up when he fell onto it. He'd fallen asleep mid-sentence more times than I could count. Of course, innumerable times he'd also fallen asleep when he'd been supposed to be doing homework, when I'd been talking to him, when he should have been doing any number of chores. It was impressive, if occasionally irritating.

He'd managed to stay awake until just now which was a clear indication of how concerned he was about me. I considered waking him up and sending him to his own bed. He probably wouldn't listen to me, though. At least he was getting some sleep right now. Maybe I could drift off for awhile, too.

I closed my eyes, my body craving the thought of sleep.

But, of course, sleep wouldn't come. All I could concentrate on was how much my muscles and joints hurt. Cataloging my infirmities seemed a poor way to pass the time. I took a slow, deep breath and attempted to calm my mind and spirit. It was difficult and mostly unsuccessful.

Something just seemed _wrong._

I didn't get sick. I just didn't. Cal liked to say it was because of what he called my "freaky super ninja healthy lifestyle." There was nothing freaky or super or ninja about my lifestyle; I just preferred vegetables over grease and fitness over sloth. Other than once when we were children and pneumonia had nearly killed me, I'd never had more than a minor cold.

This was something else entirely. Somehow it felt like something other than the flu. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I sensed something was not normal.

The more I thought, the harder it was to stay focused. My thoughts wandered and drifted and I lost time again somewhere. When the world came into focus again, Cal wasn't sitting next to me anymore. He was somewhere nearby, talking to someone.

"No, he's not better! He's on death's door."

I wasn't at death's door; not yet, anyway. But if I was in the habit of being dramatic, I'd say I was in the vicinity of that door.

"Robin, I swear if you don't start talking answers, I'm going to...No. Don't you _dare._ "

Whatever Robin did or didn't dare to do, Cal didn't elaborate, but the strain in his voice came through loud and clear. He'd been worried enough to call Robin. At quarter to four in the morning. I blinked a few times to be sure the numbers I imagined I was seeing on the clock were in fact the actual time. Quarter to four. No wonder their conversation was so animated. The two of them, sleep deprived and stressed. Suddenly, I was glad I wasn't involved.

A lot of colorful, _very_ colorful, profanity drew my attention back to the conversation I was glad I wasn't involved with.

"Damnit Robin! He's been burning up for hours. _Hours._ This is not normal and it's not safe. If it was my brain burning up, no great loss, but this is Nik we're talking about!"

While I would argue about the status of his brain if I felt better, his defensive words reminded me that while I was the one burning up with said fever, I wasn't the only one suffering.

"I can't put him in a damn tub because we don't have one. I can't get him to wake up. Not for over an hour."

Forcing my eyes open again, I wished he'd come around the corner. He sounded desperate and terrified and there was no way Robin couldn't hear it in his voice.

"What I want you to do is figure out what the hell that _thing_ was and tell me how to fix what it did to Nik. If you don't have an answer -"

What followed was my brother's very classic, very profane example of what exactly Robin could do if he didn't come up with an answer. Cal must have hung up because the next thing I heard was him softly cursing and then uttering what might have been a prayer except I didn't think I'd ever heard my brother say a prayer.

I could all too easily picture him sitting out there, crouched down, back to the wall, head in his hands. It was a pose I'd seen many times over the years. He hated feeling helpless. We both did.

Mouth dry and gummy, I tried to call his name. It came out as a muffled grunt. I was a slave to my own helpless state. Refusing to surrender, I tried again. This time, my voice was a little stronger.

"Nik?" Cal was around the corner in a heartbeat and at my side in another.

Fuzzy vision notwithstanding, I could see how difficult the night had been for him. I'd never known anyone who could out-sleep my little brother. He excelled at sleep. He craved and _needed_ an extraordinary amount of sleep. Sleep that he wasn't getting tonight. Zombies would look alert and healthy compared to him.

"Nik?"

I nodded, reaching out with fumbling fingers to tug on his shirt.

"You awake?"

"Yes."

"You know where you are?" From the way he said it, I got the distinct impression that at some point I hadn't known the answer to that question.

"Home."

I could barely hear myself, but his smile was gentle and absentminded. There was no doubt in my mind that he didn't even realize he was smiling; he kept his emotions under such careful control, hating to reveal anything lest an enemy take advantage. But that one word from me was enough to bring a smile to his face.

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face before saying, "Last time you said New Jersey which is as weird as it is disturbing. I don't even want to know what the hell you were dreaming about."

Since I had no memories of the situation in the first place, I ignored it and asked, "Everything ok?"

"Well, no, Nik, seeing as you've been trying to die on me all night, I would say that pretty much _nothing_ is ok." The stress was coming through loud and clear. So was the worry. "How are you feeling?"

"Not great," I admitted because there was no point in being less than truthful, "but I'm not trying to die on you."

Rubbing his eyes again, Cal said, "You think you can drink something? You're sweating out everything you've taken in."

The bed was damp. Uncomfortable. I was drenched in sweat.

"I am thirsty."

Cal snorted. "You're more than thirsty."

With gentleness that would have completely astounded anyone who knew my brother, he supported my head and helped me drink some water. I'm not sure which one of us was more freaked out by my weakness. We were trying not to make it obvious, of course, but we were both disturbed.

He settled me back against the pillows before brushing his fingers across my forehead. His fingers were like ice against my skin.

We stared at each other for a few seconds.

This wasn't something either of us had much experience with. The role reversal was unexpected and startling. There had been precious few occasions when the situation had necessitated Cal becoming the primary caregiver. Right now, we didn't have a choice. As disturbing as it was to be in this situation, there was no one in the world who I trusted like I trusted Cal.

"What were you talking to Robin about?" I asked, curiosity and a need for control narrowly edging past the desire to pass out.

"Trying to figure out what the hell that creature was and what it did to you."

"It's the flu."

"It's not the flu."

"Cal." I was too tired to argue the point.

"When has a flu ever done this?" He grabbed my arm and lifted it in front of my face. "When has a flu done _this._ "

I stared blearily at my left hand.

"Huh."

"Yeah, huh."

"What did Robin say?"

"He's looking into it," Cal said, frustration coloring his tone.

Having overheard some of that conversation, I knew it wasn't going well. I stared at my arm, puzzling over the swollen, weeping wound. It looked like I'd been stung by a jellyfish. I was pretty sure I _hadn't_ been stung by a jellyfish.

"Why are you talking about jellyfish?"

I blinked, turning my attention to my brother. "Jellyfish."

"Yeeeeah," Cal dragged the word out, his brows drawn together as he stared at me.

"Looks like a sting." I gestured vaguely at the wound.

"Half dead and you're still smarter than Robin is." Cal shook his head. He gently pushed my hand back down against my chest. "Still think it's just the flu?"

"Possibly not."

He snorted, reaching for something on the bedside table. "I need to wrap your arm again. You're oozing."

Closing my eyes, I allowed him to do what he thought was best.

"Robin's trying to figure out what the creature was. It stung you while it was spewing goo. You didn't feel anything?"

"No."

Cal humphed noncommittally as he secured the bandage.

The stinging pain, which I hadn't even noticed until now, was all I could think about. My entire arm throbbed, hot and hard, easily surpassing the comparatively more minor aches and pains in the rest of my body.

"It stung me?" I asked, my tongue feeling thick and heavy. Just like my head. Watching Cal wrap the bandage around my hand made me dizzy so I closed my eyes.

"It stung you. Robin thinks when it went all goopy on us, it sent one of the stingers up your sleeve."

"Didn't feel a thing."

"But you feel it now," Cal said, sounding angry on my behalf for the discomfort. "I'll get you some of the good stuff when I'm done."

"I don't need-"

"You do."

Any other day, I wouldn't have given in to him, but today I didn't even have the energy to say one more word in argument. It would have been better for Cal's sake if I could have. He finished with the bandage, then got up and presumably went to find the heavy duty painkillers.

When he returned, I accepted the medication gratefully. I might pride myself for being stoic and unaffected by something so mundane as pain, but right now I was neither stoic nor unaffected.

I wanted to cut my own arm off with my katana. It couldn't have been more painful than what I was suffering through right now.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Cal asked, easing me back against the pillows. He gently settled my throbbing arm on another pillow.

I shook my head.

"Yes, it is. I can see it on your face," he murmured.

"What else did Robin say?" I only somewhat cared. Mostly I just needed to think about something other than the pain.

"He said a whole lot. As usual. And, as usual, most of it was nothing but crap. He's trying to figure out if there's any cure for the poison."

"I have a volume on obscure -"

"You have a volume on obscure everything, Nik, but you're not going to be doing the research this time. Robin and Promise are looking into it."

"Hmm." I swallowed hard against the pain radiating from my arm to the rest of my body. The sharp pangs did a little to help clear my mind. A new concern struck me. Blinking heavily to try to clear my vision, I asked, "Are you...did it get you?"

"No, I'm fine. I've told you that a hundred times."

"You're not sick?" I grabbed for his arm, fear pulsing stronger than the pain. They were looking for a cure. They didn't _have_ a cure yet. "Cal, you're not sick?"

"I'm not sick, Cyrano." Cal's fingers were on my forehead again. They were also uncharacteristically gentle. "Just try to rest, ok? We're going to figure this out."

I stared at him, wanting, _needing,_ to say more, ask more. Needing to be in control of the situation. But the exhaustion and medication were in control, not me. It was a disturbing feeling and only the comforting thought that my brother was watching over me allowed me to surrender to the pull of darkness.

* * *

_**Cal** _

I woke up from a light doze when Nik's volume on obscure mythological creatures landed on my foot.

It wasn't a good way to be awakened and my cursing would have earned me a disapproving look and a smack to the head if Nik had been awake. I crumpled off the edge of the bed and wrapped both hands around my foot, biting my lip to hold back the very unmanly sob that threatened to come out. I was only wearing socks and the damn book weighed at least fifty pounds and had hit me square on the top of my foot.

I'd probably never walk again.

Freeing up one hand, I banged it repeatedly on the book.

It made me feel a little better.

After a few more agonized moments of trying not to cry, I sucked up the pain, shoved the book across the room, and got to my knees to look up at my brother.

And then I was on my back on the floor, struggling for breath.

The palm of Nik's left hand was pressed under my jaw, shoving my head back and close to cutting off my air supply. I floundered, my hands shoving at him with desperation and no skill. He'd been sound asleep - or so I'd thought - and then he'd slammed me backwards like lightning. He had his knee on my chest and my struggles were pathetic; I was blaming the crack I'd just taken to the head.

I tried to gasp out his name and made a noise of some sort. It didn't do me any good. I stared up into familiar grey eyes that were glazed and seeing something that was most definitely not me. His skin was dry and hot, his eyes glazed and wild. He was out of his head with fever.

I should have been watching more closely. I should have done something before it got to this point. He was going to kill me and it was my own fault.

Wrapping both hands around his wrist, I gasped out another attempt at his name with what was left of my breath. This time, he frowned. A little. Nothing else changed, but it was a sign that he'd heard me. A sign that he was aware at some level.

Taking my one and only opportunity, I called upon all those years and years of torture - _training_ \- that he'd inflicted upon me.

I twisted my lower half and threw my leg around his chest, breaking his grip. Sucking in sweet oxygen, I planted my heel against his sternum and shoved with everything I had in me. Any other day, it wouldn't have worked, but today it did.

Nik fell backwards against the bedside table and I got to my knees in a defensive position; ready for his next attempt. But there was none. He remained sprawled backwards, staring blankly at me like he had no idea who I was. It was scarier than when he'd been about to kill me.

"Nik?" I asked, rubbing my neck and maintaining a safe distance between us. "Hey, it's me. Cal."

"Cal?" he whispered, his eyes searching mine.

"Yeah." I coughed then said, "It's me."

The last bit of tension eased from his body, leaving him slumped bonelessly against the bedside table. I took my chances and crawled a little closer. Between the book landing on my foot and getting myself body slammed against the carpet, I felt about as ragged as Nik looked.

"You with me, Nik?" I asked, taking my chances and putting a hand against his shoulder.

He moaned softly, eyes closing as he nodded.

"Ok. Ok, good. Ok," I mumbled to myself, running a hand over my face and trying to sort out what to do next. "We gotta get your fever down."

We didn't have a tub, but we had a shower and it was going to have to do. Squeezing his shoulder, I said, "Stay here."

He slitted his eyes open briefly and nodded again. I would have doubted his ability to move if I hadn't experienced that ability first hand. My head was still pounding.

Patting him on the shoulder, I pushed myself to my feet and limped all the way to the bathroom. _Damn obscure book._ Turning the water on all the way to cold, a memory struck me. Something about it not being good to use ice cold water on a high fever. Shock. It could cause shock. I adjusted the water to a more moderate temperature and let it run.

Rushing back to my brother's side, I almost could convince myself that my foot didn't hurt as bad as my head did. Almost. But Nik was more important than a headache or a bruised foot.

He was where I'd left him and I breathed a sigh of relief. I called his name and made sure he was looking at me with some semblance of recognition before I approached him. He held out a shaking hand to me and whispered my name so I figured that was a good sign.

"Hey, I'm right here," I said, kneeling next to him. "Gotta get you up."

He didn't seem especially fond of the suggestion, but allowed me to pull him to his feet. He was weak, but heavy and it was a struggle to keep us both on our feet. I pulled his arm over my shoulders and supported his weight as I dragged us toward the bathroom.

We made it and I pushed him toward the shower. His breaths were hot against my skin as he panted with the effort of moving. I didn't stop moving until he was under the stream.

I'd been braced for a fight. Braced for his shocked reaction to being shoved under cold water. But all he did was lean against the wall and then slump immediately to the tile.

"Shit, Nik, give me some warning," I muttered as I barely managed to keep him from smashing his head against the faucets.

I pushed his head up and swore some more to myself. Because he wasn't really with me anymore. He was still awake, bleary eyes staring at me, but he didn't look aware in the slightest. He leaned his head against the wall and I took the opportunity to tug off my already half soaked t-shirt. I wasn't worried about his clothes at the moment.

The only thing I was worried about was _him._

Yanking a washcloth down from the towel bar, I held it under the stream and then wiped it over his face. He didn't react, but his gaze was still on me.

"You're really pushing your luck, here, Nik," I said, just to fill the silence. "You promised. You _promised_ me you wouldn't get sick like that again."

Never mind that I routinely killed monsters that gave normal people nightmares. Never mind that I was in my twenties. Never mind everything.

Right now, I felt like a terrified seven year old again. Terrified and trying to think of a grown up solution with only the resources of an elementary school education. Well, I'd figured it out then and I sure as hell was going to figure it out now.

"Robin'll figure something out." I was trying to reassure myself more than anything. "We get this fever down and then he'll have an answer and you'll be back to kicking my butt in no time, ok?"

He didn't answer, just breathed out a soft sigh against my hand as I tilted his head back against the wall.

I sat back on my heels, water running down my skin, and took a steadying breath. Who knew how long this was supposed to take? I considered going for a phone and calling Promise, but I didn't want to leave Nik that long. If I was being honest, the truth was I didn't want to admit to anyone that I didn't know what I was doing.

I'd spent my entire life as a big fat screw up. Half monster, half human and complete screw up. I didn't need anyone doubting me any more than I already doubted myself.

But that was just stupidity and the last vestiges of whatever I had that counted for pride these days.

Pride be damned, I wasn't going to let my brother suffer just because I didn't want to feel like an idiot.

I'd give it a few more minutes and then I'd call Promise if he was no better.

"Cal?" Nik's voice was hoarse and barely audible.

"Yeah?"

"I'm cold."

"You're really not." I easily pushed him back against the wall when he started to move. "I don't even want to know how high your fever is, big brother."

"It's ok," he whispered, his fingers briefly squeezing my wrist. "I'm ok."

His eyes slipped closed and I wanted to shake him. Wanted to keep him with me. Keep him alert. I didn't, though, just kept my hand on his shoulder; steadying us both.

For a few minutes, we sat in silence. I lowered my head and rested it in my other hand. My whole body ached and the sleeplessness was wearing on me in a big way. I needed to sleep. But sleep wasn't in the near future for me; not until Nik started getting better, anyway. He'd sat up with me hundreds of nights over the years; nights when I'd been hurt, nights when I'd been scared out of my mind, nights when the nightmare of my own existence had nearly sucked me into insanity. I could manage a couple nights without sleep.

After a few minutes, I straightened. A shiver ran through me. I wasn't quite as soaked as Nik was, but I was close. I palmed his forehead and might have been fooling myself, but his skin didn't seem quite as hot as it had before. He opened his eyes and glanced at me; his eyes a little clearer than they'd been.

"Nik? I'm going to go get some dry clothes, ok? Just stay here."

I waited until he nodded, then yanked a towel off the towel bar and mopped the water off my upper half. Standing up too quickly, I had to brace my hands on the sink for a few seconds while my spinning head caught up with the rest of me. Once I was a bit more steady, I kept one hand to the wall and slowly made my way out of the room.

It took me a minute or so to find clothes for Nik. He kept all his stuff in drawers and that made it hard to find anything. Piles were a lot easier to find what you were looking for. Eventually, I found a pair of sweatpants and a fresh long sleeved t-shirt. I grabbed the thermometer, too. Returning to the bathroom, I found Nik right where I'd left him. He glanced up at me when I walked into the room.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, setting the clothes on the counter.

He shrugged a shoulder.

Turning the faucet off, I crouched down and held out the thermometer.

He didn't argue with me, just took it. He was trembling now which seemed to be a good sign. I was shaking, too, and regretted not having grabbed a sweatshirt for myself before I'd returned to the bathroom.

The thermometer beeped and Nik squinted at it for a few seconds, then handed it to me. He rubbed his eyes as I looked at the number. 101.7 . Well, that was something anyway. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Better?" Nik asked softly.

"Better is a relative term." I snorted. "You ready to get somewhere more comfortable?"

"Very. Bring me a pillow, would you?"

I laughed despite everything. Grabbing a fresh towel, I said, "Dry off. You're not staying there."

He sighed, but started weakly mopping his face.

Another shiver ran through me and this time he caught it.

"Get a shirt," Nik said, nodding toward the door.

My teeth were all but chattering so I did what he told me to. When I got back, Nik had finished drying his upper half and was wrapped in the towel, shivering.

"You are limping," he said, frowning. "Why?"

"Your volume on obscure monsters landed on my foot."

His eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch.

"It fell out of my hand."

"You were reading and I missed it?"

I glared at him even though I was glad he was mocking me. "Shut up or I will let you sleep in the shower."

A hint of a smile was his only answer.

Crouching back down, I extended a hand and said, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

I gripped his forearm and pulled him to his feet. He was shaky and leaned heavily against the wall as he edged toward the counter. He pulled away from me and braced a hip against the counter.

"I've got it."

It was laughable, but I didn't laugh. I just said, "If you fall on your face, I'm not letting you live it down. Ever."

"I shall endeavor not to allow you the satisfaction." He kept one hand on the counter and waved me away with the other.

I left him to it, hovering in the hallway in case I was needed.

Thankfully, no assistance was needed. After a few minutes, he opened the door and I caught him before he could hit the ground. He leaned against me, half dead on his feet and sweating heavily.

"Come on, Cyrano. Couch for you."

The bed would have been much better, but I needed to put fresh sheets on it before I could get him back to bed.

He sank down onto the couch in a way I'd never seen him do before. He melted into it in much the same way I loved to. Rather than sitting upright and prepared for anything, he slumped against the cushions and closed his eyes. I left him there and went for the bottle of pills in his bedroom.

Pausing to fill a glass of water at the sink, I watched him cradle his arm closer to his body. The fever had so preoccupied me that I'd all but forgotten about the sting itself. I checked the time. As soon as I got my brother settled, I was going to call Robin.

Bringing the pills and water to the living room, I sat down on the coffee table across from Nik. Nudging his knee, I said, "I need to take a look at your arm."

Eyes still closed, Nik extended his arm.

"Meds first." I leaned forward and helped him take the pills before I pulled his sleeve up. He'd taken the bandages off in the bathroom. "This doesn't look good at all."

Nik didn't say anything.

I went for fresh bandages, then redressed the wound carefully. Once I was finished, Nik curled over onto his side on the couch, holding his arm close. I left him to go find a blanket. He didn't move or respond when I covered him with it. I watched him for a moment, then went back to his bedroom and started pulling the sheets off his bed.

The bedding went into a pile at the end of the hallway to be washed at a later date. Thankfully, Nik was one of the most well prepared people on the planet and he had a second set of sheets neatly stacked in his closet. I had just finished making the bed when my phone rang. Pulling it from my pocket, I answered.

"Robin?"

" _How is your brother?"_

"Sick. Miserable. He better not be dying. Tell me he's not dying, Robin."

" _He's unlikely to be dying_."

"That is _not_ an answer."

" _Best one I've got. I've spoken with a few contacts with varying degrees of experience and trustworthiness. As I told you before, your so called goo monster has the uncanny ability to inflict its poison on every known creature. It's extraordinarily rare. Sighted less than once or twice in a century. Unpredictable creatures."_

"Get to the point." I slammed a fist into the wall.

" _Time heals all as the saying goes. There's no cure, but it is rare for anyone to die of the poison. Especially in these modern times. Supportive measures and he'll be fine."_

"He's not fine. He's been running a fever all night."

" _The poison will burn out. Just do what you can to keep him comfortable. Painkillers for the sting. In and of itself, the sting is nothing more than painful. I'd come lend a hand, but I'd likely succumb to the effects of the poison just as your brother has. He'll remain contagious for a week."_

I was tempted to punch the wall again. Instead I rested my forehead against it and muttered, "A week."

" _I can arrange for any supplies that you and Niko might need in the meantime. You're still well?"_

"Guess we found the one lucky creature that is immune," I said bitterly, shaking my head against the wall.

Robin sighed. " _Sometimes curses can be blessings."_

"Shut up." I straightened, my grip tightening on the phone.

" _Cal. Tell me what you are in need of."_

"Food. I...I don't know." I pressed my head harder against the wall. "Robin, I don't know."

" _Alright. I'll handle it. Just take care of your brother. I'll take care of the rest."_

He ended the call and I remained where I was for a moment longer. My head was throbbing and my legs shook beneath me. I just wanted to sit down. Wanted to sleep.

"Later," I whispered to myself.

I returned to the living room and found Nik still on the couch, but his eyes were open now. I sat on the coffee table again and asked, "You need anything?"

He shook his head.

"I've got your bed ready."

"I'm fine here."

"Nik, you should be in bed."

"I'm comfortable." He shifted slightly, frowning. "When's the last time you slept?"

I shrugged.

"Cal. Go. Sleep."

"I'm fine."

"You look like you're about to fall over." His voice was a whisper but didn't lack a single bit of his typical big brother protectiveness. "I'm alright. You need to sleep."

He wasn't wrong, but I couldn't leave him. Couldn't take the chance of him not getting worse while I wasn't nearby. He was stubborn, but so was I.

I moved until I was sitting on the floor with my back to the edge of the couch, arms crossed over my chest. If he wanted me to move, he could make me move. Until then, I wasn't leaving him.

My ear received a sharp flick. It made my head hurt worse, but I didn't say anything. There was no point in arguing and, even if there had been, I was too tired to bother.

I stared at the wall, debating turning the television on for a distraction. But it seemed too much effort. So I stared at the wall instead.

And then I wasn't staring at anything. Somehow my eyes fell shut of their own volition. Traitors. A gentle hand eased my head slightly back against a pillow. My brother's hand rested against my forehead, holding me in place.

"Sleep, Cal."

I rarely did what I was told, but when it was my brother telling me what to do, I usually did it.

I slept.

tbc...

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Morning! Hope everyone had a good weekend!

* * *

_**Nik** _

He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

It wasn't at all unusual for him to fall asleep so quickly and easily, but this time I knew it wasn't his characteristic laziness at work but sheer exhaustion. I'd lost all sense of time, but I knew I'd been sick for well over twenty-four hours. I had no doubts that Cal had slept very few - if any - of those hours.

I closed my eyes, but rested my hand on his shoulder. If I fell asleep, I wanted to know if he tried to go anywhere. He was breathing easily and I felt no fever when I brushed my fingers against his neck. Relief filled me. He wasn't ill. If he hadn't become ill by now, perhaps he wouldn't.

I needed to talk to Robin, wanted to talk to Promise, but both calls would have to wait. I wasn't about to disturb my brother. It would have been better, of course, if he'd been in bed rather than sitting on the floor, but sleep was sleep. He was far more likely to actually get some rest where he was rather than if I'd tried to get him to move to his bed.

We both needed the rest and with him sleeping within arms reach, I would find it easier to sleep. The fever was still present, still weakening me, but it was more tolerable now. I could barely remember Cal dragging me to the shower earlier. Everything was cast in a haze.

Sighing softly, I shifted a little, trying to find a position that would help ease the sharp pain in my arm. The medications hadn't kicked in fully yet and I was more than ready for them to do so. Even so, uncomfortable as I was, sleep came easier than I'd expected.

The rolling of thunder woke me sometime later.

Consciousness was a slow process and one I wasn't sure I wanted to complete. My arm throbbed from fingertips to shoulder and my skin was damp with sweat as was the couch I lay on and the blanket I was covered with. I needed a shower.

Getting my eyes open was the first step, though, and that was proving incredibly difficult. Another rumble of thunder, louder this time, but it was the following rumble of profanity that drew me closer to full wakefulness. I opened my eyes and stared at the back of my brother's head as he let it be known in no uncertain terms what he thought of the weather.

He was mumbling under his breath, doubtless still half-asleep.

I closed my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips at the sound of Cal's colorful complaints. Half-asleep or not, he had a masterful grasp of the most flamboyant of profanities. It was to my shame that I'd never broken him of his favorite habit. I'd tried to be a good influence on a malleable young mind, but despite my best efforts, he'd learned his expansive vocabulary from Sophia.

"Son of a -" He broke off as another clap of thunder shook the windows.

I blinked my eyes open again and saw him press both hands to his face.

"Cal?"

A groan was his answer.

"Cal?" I cleared my throat, stretching my fingers out to touch his hair. "You alright?"

"My head." He rolled his head back, trapping my fingers against the pillow.

Pulling my fingers free, I asked, "Headache?"

"Mmhmm. Nik?"

"Yes?"

"You're not dead, right?" It was a barely intelligible mumble.

"Not dead."

"Oh good."

I smiled and slowly pushed myself to my elbow. The movement left me reeling from lightheadedness and pain, but I persisted in my attempt to sit upright. I tilted my head back against the cushion and stared up at the ceiling. Lightning flashed and I squeezed my eyes closed against the bright flare.

Another round of thunder had Cal cursing some more. The pill bottle shook and several pills scattered across the coffee table. He must have caught a couple because the glass clinked heavily onto the table after he'd finished off whatever had been left in it. He sighed and then settled back against the couch, his head resting against my knee.

For a long time, we sat in silence as the rain fell and the storm raged beyond the windows. I almost fell back to sleep. If not for the slightest stirring of hunger, I would have. I needed to eat. _We_ needed to eat. My memory wasn't what it should have been and I had no idea when we last ate. Even so, the storm was well past its peak when I was able to muster up enough energy to move even a single one of my depleted muscles.

I gently nudged Cal where he rested against my leg.

His head rolled loosely, then snapped up abruptly. The glint of lightning reflected off the blade he held in his hand.

"Easy," I said, touching the top of his head.

He settled immediately, twisting to look up at me. "Nik? You ok?"

"I'm alright."

I waited silently as he studied me; making up his own mind as to the validity of my statement. He'd been asleep. In these last few moments, he'd fallen back to sleep. His eyes were underscored in dark circles and from the way he was squinting, the pills hadn't completely taken care of the headache.

"You look like shit," he said, voice rough with fatigue.

"I was about to say the same."

He huffed a laugh, then rested his forehead on the edge of the couch.

I leaned forward and tapped him gently on the head. "Breakfast."

"Think it's closer to lunch, Cyrano."

"Whatever it is, it's been hours since we've eaten."

"Dunno if there's anything to eat," he mumbled into the couch cushion.

"We'll manage." I inched forward a little further. Just had to get to my feet. Nothing difficult.

Cal straightened and used my knee to push himself to his feet. He wavered where he stood, but said, "I'll figure it out."

I wasn't sure I could get to my feet and he was far from steady on his own so asking him for help seemed a poor choice at the moment. Settling back against the couch, I watched Cal make his way to the kitchen. He moved like an old man; stiff and slow.

"You feel any better?" he called over his shoulder.

"Yes. I think the worst is past." I certainly hoped it was, anyway. I was still fevered, but it was nothing like before. My mind was clearer, yet still fuzzier than it should have been.

I glanced at the kitchen as my brother rummaged through cupboards and the refrigerator. The thoughts of what he might come up with was nearly enough to motivate me to call for delivery.

"Leaf water and a toasted brick?"

Tea and organic bread.

"That will be fine."

"Robin said he'd send stuff over if we needed anything." He leaned a hip against the counter and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "He's scared of a germ."

"He's what?" I frowned, trying to make sense of his statement. Was it my fuzzy head, or was he making less sense than usual.

"It's an infection. The poison. It's contagious. Every living thing can get it, well except for the Auphe apparently."

I heard familiar self-loathing in his tone, but didn't call him on it. I was trying to wrap my head around what he was telling me. Frowning, I asked, "Every living thing?"

"That's what Robin said." Cal dropped the piece of toast on a plate and actually made an effort to spread some butter on it.

"Interesting."

"Yeah. Completely fascinating." He handed me the plate, then plopped down on the coffee table across from me. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

"Thank you," I said, looking from him to the piece of toast.

The butter wasn't completely melted and the bread was torn in places. It wasn't entirely appetizing, but my stomach informed me in no uncertain terms that it was past time I ate something. I took a bite and, unmelted butter notwithstanding, it was...barely edible.

I choked it down without enthusiasm.

"Want waffles instead?" Cal asked, eyes closed and chin still in his hands.

Looking down at the unappetizing piece of toast and picturing his terrifying waffles, I said, "If you wanted me dead, you could've just let the fever take me."

"Don't."

His voice was whisper-soft, but it cut through me like a knife. I'd scared him more than I'd realized.

I rested the plate on my thigh and said, "I'm sorry."

"You want your tea?" Cal asked, ignoring the apology and getting to his feet.

He turned away and walked to the kitchen before I could answer. At least he looked a little steadier now, but I'd never seen a cup of tea made quite so violently. It was a small miracle that nothing wound up broken despite what sounded like a concerted effort by Cal to do just that. A moment later, he presented me with a cup of lukewarm tea. A few tea leaves floated free of the tea strainer. All in all, it was as appetizing as the piece of toast.

I drank it just like I ate the toast.

Cal went back to the kitchen and threw a couple frozen waffles into the toaster. Even with his back to me, I could see the tension practically vibrating through his entire body. I was trying to come up with something to say to ease that tension when his phone rang.

"What?" he answered with impatience and no manners whatsoever. "Yeah...Well, I told you that already."

I took my last bite of the toast, thinking perhaps delivery wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"No, he's awake." The waffles popped up and Cal flopped them carelessly on a plate. "You haven't exactly been full of helpful information."

Robin. Had to be. Lacking in social skills as he might be, Cal usually had a bit more tact when he was speaking with Promise.

"No...so why are you calling if you don't have a damn cure?" Phone in one hand, Cal was squeezing syrup over his waffles with the other. "That's not helpful, Robin. Not at all...Yes, we did...Seriously?...Lot of good that does now."

I sipped my tea, then picked a few leaves out of my mouth.

"That's what we've already been doing." Cal stabbed a fork in his pile of waffles. "Yeah. I'll tell him...What do you think?...You put us under quarantine. How am I supposed to do that?"

Listening to whatever Robin was saying, Cal glanced my way and I held out a hand for the phone. Waving me off, he said into the phone, "Use your imagination."

And then he hung up.

"What was that about?" I asked, putting the mug on the coffee table next to the plate of toast.

Cal brought his plate with him and sat down on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. Plate in front of him, he shoveled a bite of waffle into his mouth before saying, "Robin's going grocery shopping."

"He's what?" Disbelief colored my tone. "I thought I heard you say Robin was going grocery shopping."

"Well." Cal waved his fork carelessly, sending droplets of syrup flying. "He's telling someone to go grocery shopping. Or he's calling the grocery store. Or something. I don't know. He's getting us food somehow. That's the important part. These are my last waffles."

I sighed and averted my eyes as he chewed said waffles with shocking enthusiasm.

Mouth full, he said, "You should go back to bed."

"I think I'll sit up for awhile. Perhaps read-"

"You're not reading anything," Cal cut me off. "You need to rest. Watch some tv. I'll find you a boring documentary if you absolutely have to learn something."

I smiled as he mopped up every last drop of syrup with his last bite.

Spending the afternoon watching documentaries didn't sound too bad to me.

* * *

_**Cal** _

Nik fell asleep midway through a documentary on one of the wars in the Dark Ages. I didn't know which one and I didn't care. It had battle scenes sprinkled throughout and was semi-entertaining. The historical value was lost on us both, though. Nik had barely been keeping his eyes open when it started and now he was long gone.

It was the second documentary we'd watched. The first one had been about the Dark Ages, too, but it had been about blacksmiths or something. It didn't have any battle scenes so I'd fallen asleep halfway through that one. Nik had gotten up to use the bathroom at the end of that one, and I'd come awake instantly. He'd made the trip on his own and without incident.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was settled on his side on the couch, back under a blanket. Before this situation, I don't think I'd ever seen Nik lying down on the couch, much less sleeping. It was disconcerting, but he did seem to be doing better. The last time I'd made him check his temperature, it had been just over 102 which wasn't the direction we'd hoped it to be going, but with some more Tylenol and a cool compress, he was as comfortable as he could be.

I, on the other hand, wasn't comfortable at all.

Muffling a groan, I tried to get off the floor without waking Nik up. I'd been sitting with my back to the couch and usually that was tolerable, but I also usually wasn't sitting like this for hours at a time. Nik stirred a little as I moved and that made me feel better.

"Just me, Cyrano," I said softly as I stretched my back.

He didn't even open his eyes, just settled immediately and fell back to sleep.

I left the tv on and took a walk to the bathroom. Once I'd finished, I grabbed an armful of pillows and the thickest comforter we owned and went back to the living room. Pushing the coffee table further away, I dropped the bedding and set about making myself a cozy nest.

I'd just sat down and was ready to start channel hopping for something more exciting to watch when someone knocked at the door. My phone rang at the same time. Cursing under my breath, I fumbled with my phone at the same time I tripped to my feet.

"Cal?" Nik mumbled, half-asleep.

"It's fine. Go back to sleep." I glanced at my phone at the same moment I pulled my gun. "I've got it."

"Robin?" I answered the phone as I approached the door.

" _Merry Christmas. Or whatever."_

I squinted and looked through the peephole in the door. No one was in the hall.

" _I couldn't stay for obvious reasons. I'd rather not get sick, you understand. So just get out there and grab the food and then get back behind that door and keep your germs to yourselves."_

I checked up and down the hallway, then set my gun down and pulled the door open. "Puck delivery?"

" _At your service. I accept tips in cash or personal check. Personal favors are also accepted."_

"Yeah. Sure. Get right on that." I looked down at the boxes and bags in front of the door. "Did you actually go shopping?"

" _Do you doubt me?_ "

"I just have a hard time picturing you pushing a shopping cart." I reached for one of the bags. "What did you get?"

" _I attempted to please two very unique and discerning palates._ "

Snorting I said, "That's one way to put it."

" _If there is anything else you need or want, simply let me know and I'll arrange for it to be delivered."_

"At a cost, of course." I hauled in the rest of the supplies.

" _Of course."_

"Put it on my tab." Closing and locking the door, I added, "Thanks, Robin."

" _Think nothing of it. Keep me apprised of your brother's condition. You are still unaffected by the poison?"_

"It's causing prolonged insomnia," I muttered, more to myself than to him. "I'm unaffected."

" _That is a good thing, Cal. Only a few more days and your lives shall return to normal. Well, your version of normal, I suppose."_

He hung up before I had the chance to respond.

Dropping the phone on the coffee table, I gathered up some of the supplies and started toward the kitchen.

"Don't you dare think about getting off that couch, Nik," I said, as I walked by.

He had managed to push himself up on one elbow. Eyes half open, he nodded then flopped back down against the pillow without a word. I smirked and started unloading the groceries. Robin had been more than generous and, as he'd proclaimed, he had done his best to please our unique and discerning palates.

Basically, he'd gotten healthy and junk food in equal portions.

I made it through half a package of cookies in a matter of minutes as I shoved packages into cupboards. Since there was no reprimand from the couch I assumed Nik had fallen back to sleep. It was freaky how much he was sleeping. Slurping down some soda, I peered back at him.

His eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping.

"Stop staring at me or I'll…" his voice trailed off.

"Or you'll what?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "It doesn't look like you can do much of anything to me."

"I can kill you with the power of my mind."

I laughed.

Nik raised an eyebrow and pinned me with a steely, if sick, look.

I swallowed hard. He couldn't _really_ kill me with the power of his mind - at least I didn't think he could - but as a threat, it was a pretty good one. Pushing limits was kind of my thing, but this was a limit I wasn't going to push.

"What did Robin bring?" Nik asked softly, changing the subject.

"A little of everything, I think. You want anything?"

"Perhaps some water."

I would have cooked him a four course meal if he'd asked; well, at least I would have given it my best shot. A glass of water didn't seem like much at all, but the look in his eyes when I helped him sit up enough to take a sip was steeped in gratitude. He might not be as bad off as he was last night, but he was still too weak to do much of anything without help. I didn't like it. Not a bit.

Once he was settled back down against the pillow, I set the bottle of water on the coffee table and studied him. There were still groceries to put away but that didn't seem important. What was important was the fact that my brother was still deathly ill and I was as useless as a dull katana.

Nik tapped me on the knee, then waved his hand in a _go away_ gesture.

Right. No staring.

I took a deep breath and went back to work in the kitchen. By the time I was finished, Nik had gone through the channels at least ten times. I leaned against the counter and stared blankly at the TV while he went through all the channels again. If there wasn't a documentary boring enough for him, then he wasn't likely to find anything to watch.

I must have dozed off standing right there. A soft conversation that wasn't from the TV slowly lured me back to something close to awareness.

" _..._ Yes...Of course...I do too, but it is a risk we can not take…"

Nik was talking to Promise. There was something about his voice when he talked to her. It was unlike anything I'd ever heard from him before. Nik could express so much with his voice and the words he said. I knew what love sounded like because I'd heard it in his voice my entire life. This, though, this was a different sort of love. It was soft and tender and disgustingly romantic even when they were saying nothing.

It made me want to gag except it was so damn cute that I couldn't help but smile. Teasing Nik and Promise about their romance was great fun except they gave twice as good as they got and I'd been given enough to discourage me from further teasing. At least most of the time. Right now though?

I was too damn tired to bother.

"...Yes, I assure you I will…"

Whatever he said next was in a whisper so soft I couldn't hear it and it was probably just as well or I might have gagged after all. They continued whispering to each other; probably a lot of mushy gushy stuff that deserved to be in the chick flick to end all chick flicks. My eyes were still closed and I was wishing I hadn't woken up for this.

"No, he's been awake now for a few minutes."

That had my eyes struggling to open.

"I've actually seen him sleep standing up for much longer," Nik said, amusement in his weary voice. "Forty minutes is nothing."

"Forty minutes?" I croaked, trying to keep both my head and my eyelids up.

"Shh, I'm talking to my girlfriend."

I blinked hard at that. It was one of the most un-Niko like things I'd ever heard him say. It was also one of those things I would give him hell over. Opening my mouth to do just that didn't get me far because there was a wicked gleam in his eyes that told me he'd make me regret whatever I said. Probably would kill me with his mind, too, just to prove a point.

My half-formed comment died instantly.

"Very well." Nik motioned to me. "Promise would like to talk to you."

I wasn't sure at all that I wanted to talk to her right now, but I stumbled toward him, yawning the whole way.

"Hey, Promise," I mumbled once I'd taken the phone from Nik.

" _Hello, Caliban. Your brother tells me you were sleeping standing up."_

"I'm a man of many talents."

" _So you are. Perhaps you should try to get some quality sleep, though."_

"What's that?" I was only half joking. I'm not sure I've had any quality sleep since I was four years old unless it was while unconscious from an injury and I don't think that technically counts. Wanting to shift the subject before she pursued it any further, I asked, "How's it going in the outside world?"

" _Very much the same as usual. Robin and I have discussed the situation at length…"_

I would have loved to have listened to them discuss anything at length. It had probably been hilarious. Tense, but hilarious.

" _...and, unfortunately, have come to the same conclusion."_

"We're stuck here for a week so we don't infect the entire city, right?"

A gentle sigh, then, " _Yes, I'm afraid that is correct. This is a very rare infection and there simply is no cure. From what Niko tells me, though, it sounds as if he is beginning to recover."_

It was a statement that sounded like a question. She wanted to know if she should trust what Nik had been telling her. I didn't doubt he was being honest with her. I did doubt he was being _completely_ honest with her. If he could downplay his symptoms, he would. That's what he'd been doing the entire time.

"Well, he's not getting worse, I guess."

_"That was my impression, but I wanted to confirm it with you. I understand that Robin has sent over provisions?_ "

"Yep, already unpacked."

" _Very good. If there is anything else you two need, please let me know._ "

"I will."

" _You need to get some rest. You sound very tired."_

I started to cut her off, but she didn't let me.

" _Niko is capable of taking care of himself while you take a nap, little brother. Let me talk to him and you go straight to bed, understand?"_

"Yeah." I understood, but I didn't obey Promise's every word I like I (usually) did with my brother and I didn't really intend to follow-through.

I gave the phone back to Nik and left the room.

Giving some consideration to doing what Promise had suggested, instead I sat down and found a gun to clean. It didn't necessarily need to be cleaned, but cleaning a gun was a wonderful distraction that would occupy me and keep me awake. Maybe I would sleep tonight. Nik really did seem to be doing better. I hoped we weren't in for a relapse of some sort because neither of us were up for that.

I putzed around with my collection for a good twenty minutes or so before deciding I'd given Nik plenty of time for sweet talking his girlfriend.

The TV was still on when I walked back into the living room. Nik had gotten himself upright and had finished the bottle of water. He almost - _almost -_ managed to wipe the look of pain off his face before I saw him. Along with everything else though, the serene expression of complete zen that he usually wore was suffering.

I checked the time without a word and went for the bottle of painkillers. His fever might be under control but obviously his pain wasn't. I grabbed a new bottle of water and the pills.

Nik took them without argument.

"Ice pack?" I offered.

He nodded, resting his head against the back of the couch.

Five minutes later, I had him settled with his injured arm on a pillow with an ice pack resting on top. He'd even put his feet up on the coffee table. The world really might be coming to an end.

And, speaking of worlds ending, I sat down heavily on the couch next to him and made a grab for the remote. He didn't let me have it.

"I'm not watching this, Cyrano. Nope. Not happening."

He was regaining some strength because I tried, really tried, to rip the damn remote from his hand and I lost.

"You do not need to watch," Nik said, matter of factly as he turned up the volume. "You should go take a nap."

"I'm fine. Go back to the boring channel," I was practically begging. "There's gotta be a fun documentary on dying wool or something."

The corner of Nik's mouth turned up slightly, but his grip didn't lessen on the remote.

My options were to either go take a nap like everyone was telling me to do, or sit here and watch _The Stand_ with him. I hated both options. A lot.

"Nik, seriously. Wool dying. Can't miss it action."

"Shh." He turned the volume up again.

I pressed both hands to my face as if I could block out the memories of reading _The Stand._ Sixteen and fresh from Auphe hell, I should have gone for some light reading instead of a massive King novel, but never let it be said that I wasn't determined. I'd read the whole book to show my brother I could. I'd been having nightmares every night back then; what was one more?

I'd never seen the movie and had been completely fine with that but, lucky me, I was getting my chance now.

" _Niiiiiiik."_ I groaned, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling.

My life was so unfair.

* * *

_**Nik** _

I'd underestimated my little brother's commitment to worrying over me. Mistakenly believing _The Stand_ would be enough to send him running far away, I'd fully expected him to have put up more of a fuss or simply left the room by now. Instead, we were a solid hour into the movie. It wasn't anything I was interested in. I wouldn't have even stayed on the channel except I'd falsely assumed it would provide a good reason for Cal to leave.

Faced with watching a movie based on the longest book he'd ever read - one that had freaked him out almost as much as the Grendels had - I never expected him to stay. But stay he had. Slouched next to me on the couch, stubbornly still awake and shockingly quiet. He was engrossed in the movie by now, though. Few things held his attention, but there was nothing like horrifying death and destruction and a worldwide plague to keep you watching.

I was only vaguely paying attention. My arm was throbbing despite the painkillers he'd given me and I was feeling worse by the minute. The fever was beginning to climb again. There wasn't anything that could be done for it that we weren't already doing, so I didn't mention it. No point in borrowing trouble; we had more than enough already.

"You really want me to have nightmares, don't you?" Cal elbowed me gently. "This is revenge for something, isn't it?"

"No one is compelling you to watch the movie."

Instead of leaving, Cal just slouched further into the couch and crossed his arms across his chest. "This is such a stupid movie."

He then spent the next hour telling me in excruciating detail all the reasons the movie was stupid. I wasn't going to tell him, but his commentary was far more entertaining than the movie was. At some point, he got up and made sandwiches. The commentary continued the entire time. I managed to eat half a sandwich while he ate two. Obviously, he'd been eating as much as he'd been sleeping.

Not much.

"Bedtime for big brother," Cal said, after finishing his second sandwich.

I doubted that sleep would come easily, but sitting up didn't seem to be an option much longer. I was miserable, but I was going to be miserable whether I was sitting on the couch or lying down in my bed. My head was filled with pressure and I was lightheaded just sitting still. The pain in my arm had lessened somewhat, but my whole body ached.

Cal didn't wait for me to acknowledge him. He just pulled me to my feet without any trouble whatsoever. I was thankful he was strong enough to do so although it was disconcerting to be so weak that I needed this level of assistance.

After helping me to the bathroom, he hovered in the doorway until I was finished, then supported me the rest of the way to my bedroom. Crawling under the covers was like reaching nirvana. We didn't spend much money on physical possessions, except for our weapons, but after a childhood spent on hard floors or musty, moldy, cheap mattresses, we did spend a bit more money on good mattresses these days.

"I'll get you some water," Cal said, softly as he pulled the covers up to my shoulders.

He returned in a matter of moments and set the water on the table next to me.

"Anything else you need?"

I shook my head, already struggling to keep my eyes open.

"Ok. Holler if you need me."

"I will. Get some rest."

He nodded and left the room again.

I was asleep seconds later.

I knew he was sleeping on the floor beside my bed.

It was a lifetime spent side by side. A lifetime of listening to him breathe. A lifetime of knowing him better in some ways than I knew myself. A lifetime of taking care of him; of him taking care of me.

Anyone else would probably have stepped on him when they'd gotten out of bed.

I sensed him even before I was fully awake. Full awareness came slowly, gently. We were safe. We were under no threat and the pain and illness besetting me had both abated somewhat. I'd slept well. Not quite comfortably, but close enough to have done me some good.

Rolling to my side, I let my arm dangle over the edge of the bed. My fingers found Cal's shoulder and I allowed them to rest there for a few moments; feeling his easy breathing under my fingers allowed me to relax back into a light doze.

When I stirred again, I put in the effort to peel my eyes open and glance down at my brother.

Head on a well flattened pillow, he was on his stomach, his K-BAR gripped in his right hand. He was sound asleep and, if I didn't know him as well as I did, I would have thought he could sleep through a nuclear explosion from how hard he was sleeping. As it was, I was surprised that he hadn't awakened when I'd first shifted on the bed and put my hand on his shoulder.

I brushed his hair back from his face. He didn't move. He was completely out, yet still seemed to know I wasn't in distress and we weren't in danger. I didn't feel any fever when I brushed against his cheek. Allowing my hand to linger on the side of his face, I watched him sleep for several minutes. He deserved some rest after how much he'd given up these past few days. No one loved sleep as much as Cal did and for him to give up so much of his most precious pastime was a powerful sacrifice. Hopefully, now that I was feeling better, I could begin to repay him for his care.

After a few minutes, I rolled back over and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

The next time I woke up, there was a faint hint of dawn around the windows and Cal was sitting up next to me. Hair tousled, he was disheveled and half asleep. Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he wavered where he sat and yawned dramatically.

I smiled as I watched him lower his hands and sit there, eyes half-closed. It took a few minutes before he managed to get them all the way open and uncrossed enough that he could even see me.

"Nik?" he asked, voice heavy with sleep. "You ok?"

"I am."

"Better?"

"Better."

He nodded, glancing around the room sleepily. "Is it morning?"

"Early morning."

"Need anything?"

"I've got it. Go back to sleep. In your bed."

"You getting up?" he asked, running his hands through his hair. It did not improve anything.

"For a little while." I needed to stretch. Needed the bathroom. Needed to drink something. None of which did I need his help for. "This is a once in a lifetime offer, little brother. Go back to bed or I'll make you get up and work through every kata I know."

It was an empty threat, but he didn't know that.

As out of it as he was, it took him almost a minute to process the threat. He shook his head and said, "You're gonna kick my butt when you're feeling better, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." I lifted an eyebrow. I would, too, but not until I'd allowed him time to catch up on his sleep.

"Ok. If you fall on your face, don't expect me to get up and help you."

"Understood." I understood that he absolutely would come help me if I needed it. "Go. Get some sleep."

I waved my hand, then slowly pushed myself upright. The room spun a little, but it wasn't overwhelming and Cal didn't say anything, so I must not have looked like I was in any distress. He watched me for a little longer, then grabbed his pillow and left the room.

It was both a surprise and a relief that he left without any protest. I had to be looking better if he was allowing me to be on my own now. After a minute longer to gather strength, I got to my feet. The lightheadedness was worse, but not bad enough to send me to the floor.

I kept a hand to the wall just to ensure I didn't wind up falling over. Cal would come help me, no question, but he also would never let me live it down.

After using the bathroom, I went to the kitchen and made a smoothie. Robin had provided fresh fruit and it tasted amazing. He had gone above and beyond in providing us with food. I had a suspicion that he felt bad for not being able to provide assistance in any other form. There was no way he hadn't heard the stress in Cal's voice every time they'd spoken.

I enjoyed sipping my smoothie and watching the earliest rays of sunlight spread across the sky. After close to an hour, I got up to rinse the glass in the sink. That was when I noticed something I hadn't until just now.

The kitchen was spotless.

Not just clean. Not just neat, but actually _spotless._ Spotless like I always tried to keep it but seldom could maintain because I had a little brother who was as messy as he was lazy. I stared at the sink, glistening under the rays of sunshine filtering into the room. The counters were just as shiny. The front of the refrigerator had been wiped down. A peek inside revealed the cleaning spree hadn't been left to the exterior only.

The shelves had been wiped down and he'd even cleaned the caked on ketchup and mustard on the lids of the bottles. I closed the door, my eyebrows up as I looked around the room, taking in things I hadn't noticed until now.

The living room was neat. Very neat. I didn't see his jacket, any t-shirts, or stray socks. There were no plates with leftover food turning moldy. No upturned soda cans. No crumpled magazines. Nothing. It was as neat as I'd...well, as I'd never seen it. I thought about the bathroom and made my way back there. I hadn't been paying much attention when I was there, but now I was incredibly curious to see how extensive Cal's cleaning spree had been.

After flipping on the light in the bathroom, my jaw dropped. His cleaning spree had extended to the point of picking up all the towels, cleaning the sink, shower, and toilet. It looked like he'd even scrubbed the floor. The tile had never looked so white. I leaned against the door jamb for a moment, strongly considering taking a picture. It would never look this clean again, but there was a degree of amused triumph to knowing that Cal absolutely _could_ clean this well. I'd seen him stressed more times than I could ever hope to count, but I'd never seen stress result in a cleaning spree before. It was probably too much to hope that cleaning as a coping mechanism would be a continued phenomenon.

After admiring the clean bathroom for a moment longer, I turned away.

Debating briefly between returning to the living room for some stretches and meditation and going back to bed, I stopped by Cal's room.

It was no surprise to find him completely dead to the world. He was sprawled out on top of the blankets, his knife still clutched in his hand. It wasn't common for him to sleep with it in his hand anymore. Close, yes, but not in his hand like he'd done for so many months after he'd gotten back from Tumulus.

Right now, though, he was the one keeping watch, the one most capable of defending us from an attack. His Glock was resting next to his pillow and his favorite Desert Eagle was on the nightstand. The epitome of preparedness. We were safer than we'd ever been in our lives and there was no current threat, but still he was armed and ready.

It had been many years since I'd felt the tug of sadness that our lives necessitated such wariness, but I felt it now.

There was little point in bemoaning the situation; the course of our lives had been set before either of us had been born. We'd done the best we could do for ourselves with what we'd been given.

Cal shifted restlessly as I watched him. His fingers tightened around the grip of his knife and, as I'd been present for almost every one he'd ever had, I recognized the signs of a nightmare. Nightmares were unfortunately not an uncommon occurrence for either of us and we were both well accustomed to drawing each other out of them.

I took a step closer and called his name very quietly. It was important to be cautious. Lazy or not, he was well trained and could easily do some damage before he was fully aware of his surroundings. He stilled at the sound of my voice and tilted his head toward me, without opening his eyes.

"Everything's fine, Cal," I said, giving his foot a gentle shake. "Get some more sleep."

I didn't try to take the knife from him. It was unlikely he would have relinquished it to me for one thing. For another, he'd never once had a security blanket, but he'd had a security blade in his hand since early childhood. He needed it as much as I needed my katana.

My reassurance was all that was necessary.

He took a deep breath, then tossed and turned a few times before settling back down in almost the exact position. The anxiety that had lined his face a moment ago was gone. Breathing easy, his grip on the knife eased.

I picked up the blanket he'd long since kicked off the bed and spread it over him. He would sleep now. Perhaps even into the afternoon. Such slothfulness would never be tolerated on a normal day, but today I would grant special consideration.

Assured Cal was resting comfortably, I walked back to my own bed and collapsed onto it.

Sometimes even Super Ninjas got to take a sick day.

tbc...

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Things are lookin' up for the boys.
> 
> Hope you've been enjoying! I really never wrote this intending to post during a worldwide pandemic lol! Rather ironic now that I'm posting it though lol. At least now we know how the Leandros brothers would deal with a lockdown situation haha!
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Have a great week! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy monday! So I totally forgot to post until just now lol! I'm so not a morning person and with everything being so crazy right now, my schedule is bonkers. I just now finally remembered to post. better late than never i guess haha. Here's the final chapter!

* * *

_**Cal** _

By the time our quarantine was lifted, I'm not sure which one of us was more stir crazy.

I liked doing nothing. Loved it in fact. The thought of spending a week either in my bed or on my couch was a dream come true. No five mile run. No hours of sparring in Central Park. No slinging whiskey and trying not to kill patrons at the _Ninth Circle._

Just me and comfortable places for my butt to stay.

Of course, the first few days of our involuntary house arrest had been stressful and unpleasant to say the least. When Nik had finally turned the corner and started improving, I started to catch up on my sleep. That brief period was positively wonderful and I cherished every precious second of utter laziness I was granted.

And then Nik got better. All the way better. And then, lock down or not, he made me suffer. No, he wouldn't say _suffer._ He'd say something pompous like he was helping me build character. Whatever. It was suffering. It was torture. It was brotherly love at its finest.

He'd been the one who was sick, not me. Why I had to be "trained" so hard I didn't know. I wasn't out of shape.

"You are out of shape," my overlord said, his grey eyes glinting with nothing short of glee.

Nik was standing above me, one foot on my chest, pinning me to the mat. He had his hands on his hips and hadn't broken a sweat. Show off. There were times when I wondered why I'd tried so hard to keep his brain from burning to a crisp with the fever. Would have saved me a lot of misery.

"I'm not out of shape," I countered although the way I was huffing and puffing kind of made my statement seem like a lie. The fact I couldn't muster enough strength to shove my brother away didn't help lend credibility to my bold statement.

An eyebrow raised less than a millimeter was Nik's silent yet smug reply. He didn't remove his foot from my chest. I could have taken him down. I could have. If I'd really wanted to. I'd done it before, but he was being an annoying show off and the mat was decently comfortable and I hadn't had a nap so far today. So I closed my eyes just to annoy _him._

I fell asleep.

I woke up a couple hours later which was a clear indication of how much slack he was still cutting me for the time I'd spent watching over him while he'd been sick. If it wasn't for that, he would have woken me up by pouring an ice cold glass of water over my face. Or by picking me up and throwing me into a wall. Dealers choice.

Instead, I woke up peacefully and easily to the sound of a conversation nearby. The conversation was considerately quiet and I kept my eyes closed, content to allow consciousness to take its own sweet time in arriving. If no one was trying to peel me off the mat, I was fine with staying put for a little longer. I'd caught up on a lot of the sleep I'd missed while Nik had been down with the Purple Goo Flu, but I would _always_ welcome more sleep.

So I just stayed where I was and half listened to the voices nearby. It didn't take long to identify the second voice as Promise's. Huh. Should've known she'd be over at the first possible moment. A week was a long time to be without her ninja boyfriend.

I did not want to listen to their sweet nothings, but now I was awake and I was hungry on top so going back to sleep wasn't an option. With a sigh, I dragged myself upright.

"It lives," Nik said with no small degree of humor.

After glaring at him somewhat blearily, I glanced at Promise and gave her a quick wave.

She smiled sweetly and waved her fingers back at me.

They were snuggled on the couch. _Snuggled._ My badass brother who knew a thousand ways to maim and kill was _snuggling_ with a vampire on my couch. Ok, so it was technically our couch, but it hadn't been molded to fit anyone's ass but mine. I liked Promise, but if this was going to become a common occurrence, they were going to have to get their own couch.

"Good evening, Cal," Promise said, her fingers entwined with Nik's. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close to his chest. "How are you?"

"Swell. Hungry."

"Eloquence may not be your strong suit," Nik said, "but you are concise."

I shrugged, pushing myself to my feet. I needed food and fast.

"Your dinner is waiting in the microwave." Promise was getting freakishly good at anticipating me. She was hanging around with my brother too much.

Stumbling to the kitchen, I hit start on the microwave and watched my Kung Pao Chicken spin around and around. The conversation behind me turned to whispers and soft laughter and it was so cute I wanted to puke. As soon as the microwave announced my dinner was hot and radiated, I was running for my bedroom. Maybe I'd eat and then run out the door. It had been a week; maybe Ishiah would be happy to have me back at work.

I snorted. He was probably ecstatic that I'd been nowhere near the _Ninth Circle._ I wasn't exactly good for business.

The microwave beeped and I grabbed my food, ready to make my escape from the saccharine sweetness oozing all over my couch. Before I could run to my room, the front door lock was picked and the door thrown open to reveal Robin Goodfellow.

"Party time!" he called out, bringing in two bags, then kicking the door closed behind him.

I hovered where I was, uncertain at this new development.

Nik and Promise didn't seem surprised to see him though and he was already making himself comfortable in the armchair. He spread out a small liquor store across the coffee table along with what looked like a truly incredible chocolate cake. It didn't _look_ like it was made of tofu so I decided to take my chances.

I put my dinner down on the coffee table and resigned myself to sitting on the floor since my elders - some of them by hundreds and thousands of years - had all staked their claims on the furniture. Robin was still unloading stuff onto the table. Bags of chips and various dips appeared along with the beer and liquor.

Promise leaned forward and filled up two plates.

"Did you bring it?" Nik asked, accepting a plate of organic, gluten free tortilla chips from Promise. There wasn't enough guacamole in the world to kill the non-flavor of those chips.

"I brought it," Robin said with a grin.

"Brought what?" I asked, settling cross legged on the floor and grabbing a handful from the bag of _not_ organic chips.

Robin waved a DVD, but wouldn't let me see the cover. I would have made a grab for it, but I was too busy shoveling chips into my mouth. Curiosity had nothing on hunger.

"Your appetite does not seem to have suffered from your recent incarceration," Robin said.

"Few things affect Cal's appetite."

I would have punched Nik for the comment just because it would have been the normal thing to do, but Promise was reaching for her glass of wine and I would have inadvertently hit her. And then Nik would have had to kill me and that would just have ruined the party atmosphere.

So instead of punching him, I just stole the guacamole away from him and contaminated it with my gluten loaded chips.

The title card on the movie came up. I stared at it and then oh _hell_ no. I pitched a handful of popcorn at the TV.

"I hate you all," I muttered. "I'm not watching this."

"It's a classic." Robin turned the volume up. "Steve McQueen. One good looking specimen if ever I saw one."

"I had dinner with him on occasion," Promise said, demurely, if a bit wickedly.

Robin's eyes widened and I would've sworn he was drooling. Nik just raised an eyebrow. He was too zen to get jealous; especially over a guy Promise had eaten dinner with back in the fifties. Robin, though, looked jealous and like he wanted to ask for more details, but just opening his mouth earned him a scathing look from Promise. Yeah. He wasn't going to get anywhere with her. It was almost enough to distract me from the atrocity they were trying to subject me to.

"I'm not watching this," I repeated, setting aside the chips for my noodles and chicken.

"I did briefly own _Little Bastard,"_ Robin boasted. "A fine piece of automotive engineering if ever there was one."

"Are the rumors true?" Nik asked. He reached over and grabbed the guacamole before I could defend my claim on the dip.

"Was the Porsche haunted?" Robin grinned from ear to ear. "Is that what you want to know? Or do you want to know where I hid it? Because that's a secret I shall take to my grave."

"The Spyder was not haunted." Promise sipped her wine. "It was also not nearly as incredible a ride as everyone likes to claim. More hype than substance as is the case with so very many male obsessions."

"I'm not watching this," I interjected before Robin could volley his own insult back at Promise.

Everyone ignored me as usual.

They spent the next few minutes discussing cars and engines and classic movies. I finally gave up trying to get anyone to listen to my complaints and just kept eating and watching the damn movie that I didn't want to be watching.

The movie wasn't terrible. It was actually pretty good. I wouldn't admit that, though. Not even under torture.

Everyone thought it was utterly hilarious to make me endure _The Blob_ when I'd already endured the damn thing in real life.

* * *

_**Nik** _

Suggesting Robin bring _The Blob_ had been one of my best decisions.

I was enjoying listening to Robin and Promise spar nearly as much as I was enjoying listening to my little brother whine about the movie. I was ignoring him. We all were. He needed to be ignored sometimes. It built character. It was also massively entertaining.

Stifling a smile, I wrapped my arm around Promise's shoulders as she curled her legs up on the couch and settled closer to me. Robin had moved from the topic of McQueen's car to the topic of McQueen himself.

"He does love the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?" Promise whispered dryly.

I nodded and stole a kiss.

"I missed you." She leaned closer, her lips at my ear.

"As I did you."

"Perhaps after we've put the children to bed, we can steal some time for ourselves?"

"I could turn the movie off right now." My finger hovered on the

remote. I wasn't being facetious.

Promise laughed, kissing my jaw then resting her head against mine. "I'm rather enjoying listening to your brother insisting he's not going to watch the movie he's currently sitting here watching."

"It _is_ entertaining, I must admit."

We settled comfortably against each other and watched the entertainment before us.

Robin and Cal were fighting over the chocolate cake. By now Robin had finished off two bottles of wine on his own. He wasn't drunk — not even close — but he was at ease and having a good time. Cal wasn't drunk either but he was annoyed which made him belligerent and more than eager to fight.

About anything.

Chocolate cake just happened to be the closest thing to fight about.

I watched Cal arguing with Robin, both wielding forks like swords and yet somehow still managing to chow down on their huge pieces of cake.

True relaxation spread through my body as I shared a private smile with Promise, then returned my gaze to the playful squabbling taking place in front of us.

I was perhaps not back to full strength but I'd soundly beaten my little brother every time we had sparred in the last few days. Our time of quarantine had passed and tonight was the beginning of our return to normal. It was a good feeling.

* * *

I woke up sometime after five AM. Nothing had disturbed me, but I came awake anyway. In this past week, I had slept in later and more often than I ever had before and my body and mind were craving a return to routine. Promise was asleep next to me, her hair fanned out on the pillow and one hand on my chest. I shifted gently, brushing her fingers with a kiss as I moved them aside. She didn't stir as I got out of bed.

Dressing silently, I watched Promise sleep. I was getting out of a warm bed that was currently occupied by a beautiful woman which perhaps meant I was not as intelligent as I liked to think I was. But my mind and body were itching for activity. Activity beyond what Promise and I had engaged in earlier. Smiling, I pulled the cover up over her shoulder and turned away.

I slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me. Standing in the hall for a brief moment, I found Cal's bedroom door open. Typically, that would surprise me. Five am was about eight hours too early in Cal's opinion. Things weren't typical right now, though, and it didn't surprise me at all to find him in the main room.

He'd been staying up most nights keeping watch.

"You're insane, you know that?" Cal said, without turning to look at me.

He was standing in front of the large window, his forehead pressed against the glass. The Desert Eagle in his right hand seemed a bit excessive, but my little brother was nothing if not well-prepared. A sword was resting on the table next to him and I didn't doubt he had at least four blades elsewhere on his person.

"Insane?" I asked quietly, crossing the room to stand beside him.

"You left a drop dead gorgeous vampire in your bed. You're either insane or stupid." He straightened, giving me a thin smile. "Which is it? Do you want me to guess?"

"Why are you up?" I changed the subject.

"Sightseeing."

He wasn't going to admit he'd been keeping watch. Wouldn't admit he worried. Had to keep that bravado in place.

"There are more sights to be seen."

Cal narrowed his eyes.

"Come along, little brother, the day is young," I said, anticipating the backlash and grumping I was sure to receive.

Instead I saw a spark of hunger in his eyes. He loved to complain about the physical activity I inflicted on him. He would deny it well past his death, but he needed this as much as I did. Neither of us did well with inactivity; with idleness. We'd had too much of it of late.

"You _are_ insane," Cal complained even as he followed me to the door, holstering his gun as he did. "You're insane and stupid and you have to be out of your head if you think I'm going running with you at this unholy hour."

I held the door open for him. His griping didn't falter as he walked out the door.

"I'll see you out," he said, standing at my shoulder as I locked the door behind us. "See you out, make sure you don't fall on your face on the way down the stairs. But then I'm going back to bed for the next eight hours. I'll make me and Promise some pancakes later. You can have some blended bran smoothie. "

He bitched the entire way down to the street and I tried to keep my smile hidden. We walked out into the early morning and his complaining turned to cursing as the chilly air swept over him. He zipped his coat up all the way and looked longingly over his shoulder at the door.

I stretched briefly while he jumped up and down and used flowery language to detail how much he hated mornings, and cold, and running, and mornings, and cold...the list went round and round. He'd be complaining until we hit a pace where he had to concentrate on breathing rather than talking.

We took off at an easy pace through the slowly awakening streets. The morning light was only beginning to brighten the sky as I chose a course that would take us by the river where we would get the best view of the sunrise. This was the first day we had gone out running since I'd been poisoned. Watching the sunrise over a new day seemed a fitting way to get our lives back to normal.

Of course, Cal was not of the same opinion and I was subjected to that opinion for two miles. He wasn't out of breath by the time we made it to the river which was something of a shame. The peaceful morning would have been a lot more peaceful without his non stopped grumbling. I should have set a faster pace.

We stopped at the top of a small hill overlooking the river.

"Well, what an absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous day," Cal proclaimed, spreading his arms wide in his very own monster-killer-goth version of the famous hilltop scene in _The Sound of Music._ "I'm filled with the joy of a thousand butterflies dancing the Macarena while tossing LSD coated sprinkles all over the world to make it a happier place. Share a Coke, ride a rainbow. I'm going back to bed, have a great day."

He turned on his heel, his expression every bit as dark as his hair.

"We have only just begun," I said, catching his arm before he could make his getaway. "Out of practice as we may be, a two mile run is not even the bare minimum of what we will be doing this morning."

His groan was excessively dramatic and I couldn't hold back my smile this time. I tried not to let him know how much his antics amused me; it would be bad for my super-zen image. Taking another long look at the sunrise, I considered my life and all the reasons I had to be grateful. There were many reasons, but the most important one was standing right next to me, whining like a three year old.

It had been seventeen years or so since he'd been three. He'd grown into a man. An impatient, foul-mouthed, lazy, slob of a man, but a man nonetheless. One that could kill monsters without hesitation but picked up barrettes and rings of slain victims. One who had sacrificed his own personal happiness to ensure there was no chance he'd be, however inadvertently, responsible for bringing new monsters into the world. One who never backed down from a fight, including the fight against his own DNA.

One who had, and always _would,_ stand by me in the face of death. He had taken care of me for the past week without hesitation or complaint. I didn't know how I'd been so fortunate to have been blessed with such a good brother.

Silence drew me back to the present and I found Cal staring at me, his grumpy face twisting into a confused frown as he met my gaze.

"What?" he asked, hands on his hips.

Struck with how much I loved my pain in the ass little brother, my entire plan for the day changed. He deserved pancakes. He deserved not to have to make them for himself and Promise and I deserved not suffer from his cooking. I made very few exceptions in my rigorous training routine, but today was a day for such exceptions.

"Come along, little brother," I said, slinging an arm over his shoulders and drawing him away from the water.

A greasy spoon diner wasn't far from our location and, as much as I dread the thought of such places, I would endure the filth and stickiness for his sake. He _had_ cleaned the apartment, after all. A little positive reinforcement was appropriate given the circumstances.

"Where're we going?" he asked, instantly suspicious.

That was my brother. Suspicion was his default emotion, or so it seemed; just as laziness was his natural state of being.

"Breakfast."

"Breakfast?" he echoed, still frowning.

"Yes. How do pancakes sound?"

"Pancakes? We are talking about _my_ kind of pancakes, right? With sugar and flour and syrup? That kind of pancake? Not some soy abomination?"

"Your kind of pancake. All the syrup you can eat. Whip cream on top if you so desire."

Go big or go home, I decided. He never cleaned...anything without being prompted. Many, many, many, _many_ times.

"I do so desire." Cal pulled away slightly and asked, "You're not dying, right? This isn't some kind of deathbed confession, is it? You're not just buttering me up with pancakes and then gonna tell me you're gonna be dead tonight? Because that is going to _seriously_ piss me off, Cyrano. Especially after I cleaned the damn apartment and if I-"

"I'm not dying," I cut him off, leading the way to the diner with him following me like the semi-obedient puppy he was. "But you _did_ clean the apartment and you took care of me while I was ill. I think a stack of pancakes is well deserved."

"What's the catch?" And there was suspicion, rearing its head again.

"No catch."

"You're not gonna make me run like twenty miles to make up for the pancakes?"

"I will not, although we'll be returning to our normal routine tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes, then said, "You don't feel up to running today. That's it, isn't it? You still don't feel good enough and you're not back to full ninja strength and you need an excuse to save your ninja pride. Ha. I'm on to you, Nik."

"That is not the case at all," I assured him. "I am feeling well enough to continue our run. If you would rather do that than eat pan-"

"Pancakes. Syrup and whip cream." There was a bounce in his step now. "Bacon too. Yes? You can't take me out to breakfast and expect me not to get bacon."

"The day you don't eat bacon when it is available is the day I know you've been switched with a doppleganger."

"One that's not a monster, hopefully," Cal quipped.

I smacked him on the back of the head. He might have cleaned the apartment from top to bottom, but that didn't mean he could say things like that and expect to get away with it. I went to give him a second smack, but he dodged before I could. Maybe I wasn't quite back to full strength quite yet.

Rubbing his head and shooting me an aggravated look, Cal asked, "So, this is seriously _just_ breakfast? No strings attached. You're just getting your favorite little brother pancakes because he's awesome?"

"I am getting my favorite little brother pancakes because he is awesome."

That brought a grin to his face. A big one. He wasn't exactly big on smiles in the first place and I'd _never_ seen him smile this early in the morning. He would spend the rest of the day in a sugar coma and I'd get nothing else useful out of him, but it was worth it just to see that smile.

"Well, keep up," he said, turning around and jogging backwards, grin still plastered across his face. "Unless you're too tired."

"Last one to the diner gets to clean and sanitize the trunk," I said with a darkly wicked grin. "Think of how fragrant it will be after an entire week with our coats fermenting in goo."

He looked a little green just at the thought and nearly fell on his face as he spun around and started running full out as I passed him. I set a pace that he had no chance of maintaining let alone beating me at.

"Robin probably can find you a gas mask to wear while you scrub the trunk," I encouraged, easily putting distance between us.

"I hate you," he shouted, already huffing and puffing.

I glanced over my shoulder. He was trying, I had to give him credit. He was really trying. I was tempted to let him win, but where was the fun in that?

So I beat him soundly, bought him breakfast, then went home to enjoy a cup of tea with Promise while my awesome little brother cleaned the trunk of my car.

It was a good ending to a bad week.

_the end_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I sure loved writing this story...and am still snickering at the irony of my impeccable timing with posting this during a freaking pandemic lol.
> 
> stay safe, stay healthy! read more fanfic! Always a good idea and great for social distancing! ;)
> 
> Thanks again so much for reading. :)


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